


The Otherworldly

by catcusxx



Series: Demons and Emotionally Illiterate Haikyuu Characters [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, (minor) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Demons, Fluff and Angst, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Akaashi, I over use parenthesis (and ellipses...), It gets a little horny in parts as well, M/M, Maybe? its longer than I though it was gonna be but still not super slow, Mild Gore, Minor OC's as well, Nightmares, Oikawa's a mess as per usual, Scars, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Succubi & Incubi, Use (overuse??) of wounds as a romantic trope im s o r ry, Wet Dream, and a bunch of other stuff makes a cameo, and they kiss, everyones gay, if u squint, mentions of angels too, o the irony, obviously, they share emotions and stuff too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:08:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23213044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catcusxx/pseuds/catcusxx
Summary: "What's happening," Hajime asked, his eyes flicking to the figure in the alley. The point where the stranger had grabbed him stung.“God wanted me dead, now you get to find out why.” The stranger stood, angling himself between Hajime and whatever was in front of them, ignoring the wound in his side.And that's when all hell broke lose.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Except for iwaoi, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Most of this stuff is in the background tho lol, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, theres a lot going on - Relationship
Series: Demons and Emotionally Illiterate Haikyuu Characters [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783087
Comments: 45
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't trust myself with a WIP, this is completed already and I'll post weekly :)

It was Hajime's turn to lock up the store. He'd been working as a part-timer there for a few months now, since he’d begun his second year at university. Before that he’d worked in the back of a warehouse, driving a forklift around he couldn’t say he enjoyed customer service any more than that. The pay was better though, and so were the hours; he’d rather work late at night than get up at four before volleyball practice.  
He shut the shop before any other customers could wander in and closed the till. Now he just had to take out the trash.  
The skip, just outside the back door, smelled foul, and overlaid the scent of cigarette smoke. His manager, Ukai, came out here to smoke on his breaks.  
Today there was something else underlying even that. Something faint and acrid and deeply, subtly, disturbing.  
Hajime shivered and tossed the bag in the skip. He listened to the crash of glass bottles and plastic packaging and the like for a moment, and then turned to hurry back inside - or at least, he planned to.  
The light spilling out from the door of the store didn't reveal much, but from the corner of his eye, Hajime caught a flicker of movement further down the alleyway.  
Against his better judgement, he brought out his phone and turned on the flash light. It illuminated a figure hunched against a wall.  
This could not be good.  
Perhaps it was a discarded mannequin from the clothing store… one that moved of its own accord and – yeah, that wasn’t much better.  
At the light, the person turned, and Hajime found himself looking into a pair of eyes, squinting in his direction. They reflected the light oddly, almost shining yellow.  
"You good?" Hajime asked. A dumb question, he realised, as he approached and caught sight of the dark blood staining the strangers clothing. He hurried to them and knelt down. "I'll call someone."  
The stranger looked on, his eyes unfocused. It must be the blood loss - or he was stoned. Both, even. A hand closed around Hajime’s wrist as he typed in the passcode and he flinched.  
"I'm going to call the hospital." He said as calmly as he could manage, "could you tell me where you're bleeding?"  
The stranger shook his head, "no... Hospitals."  
Hajime snatched his hand away, "whatever shit you've gotten yourself involved in isn't more important than your life."  
"I'll be fine, I just need a couple hours." The tried to sit, and winced, "and some bandages, maybe."  
Hajime placed a hand on the strangers uninjured shoulder in some attempt at comfort. He was giving off heat like a space heater, and his skin was pale, as if there wasn't a single blood vessel underneath the surface. His eyes were locked on Hajime with a strange, uncomfortable intensity. In the dark he couldn't pick out their actual colour.  
He went to press the call button.  
The stranger lunged, and knocked the phone from his hand. It hit the ground with a thud which told Hajime he'd have to at least replace his screen protector again.  
That wasn't the predominant issue here, of course.  
"You're going to bleed out." He said, and reached for it. Perhaps he should just run instead.  
The stranger gripped his left bicep. A sharp pain burned Hajime's arm through his shirt and he yelped and jerked away. Without his support, the stranger slumped back against the wall.  
"You can't." He rasped, and then grinned, showing off bloody teeth.  
Hajime drew back, because this person was all wrong. There was something off about their form, and their eyes, and that smile. That smile was large and sharp and utterly cold.  
"Your house." He said, between his teeth, "take me there."  
"I have a roommate," Hajime said, as if that were the reason.  
The grin vanished, and the stranger's head whipped around. There was something approaching them from the end of the alleyway. Something fast.  
The acrid smell was overpowering, suddenly. Hajime choked on bile rising at the back of his throat. The stranger struggled to stand. Hajime felt a twinge of pain where he'd grabbed him on the arm, prickling like a bee sting.  
"What's happening."  
"Nothing good. I'd tell you to run, normally, but it seems I've complicated the situation." The stranger was standing fully now. “God wanted me dead,” he crouched into a fighting stance, “and you’re the lucky human who gets to find out why.”  
Hajime was going to run regardless, but something stopped him dead in his tracks. The stranger was only a few centimetres taller than Hajime but his presence was almost overwhelming. In the moment he faced the thing coming towards them, he seemed powerful.  
Then he stumbled and the illusion was broken.  
He coughed and then swore under his breath. Spat onto the street; blood, Hajime could tell, even though his phone flashlight was aimed uselessly at the sky several feet away.  
And then the thing was on top of them.  
It was a mass of darkness and claws and hot, foul smelling breath. Hajime's first thought was that it was a large dog, but it was too large even for that, too fast, and far too insubstantial. He heard the stranger shout something as the mass invaded his mouth - he was suffocating. He clawed at the air but there was nothing there. He could feel claws digging into his arms and foul breath on his face but his fingers combed uselessly through thin air.  
There was a buzzing in his ears, and he could hear a voice distantly. Rhythmic chanting.  
And a gunshot.  
Even in the beasts claws Hajime flinched - then it was gone. He fell to his knees, breathing deep gulps of air.  
The acrid scent lingered, but the black mass was gone.  
The stranger, unfortunately, had not. He met Hajime's eyes briefly, and he realized his pupils were thin slits, like a snakes. Then his eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped towards the ground. Hajime clumsily caught him, though he imagined it would have hurt him just as much to let him fall.  
He had just witnessed something he was definitely not meant to see. He laid the stranger on the ground and reached for his phone. Finally the smooth case met his shaking hands and he snatched it up. It turned on, but cracks ran across the screen.  
His fingers hesitated over the flashlight icon. The light made him feel safer - sometime during the scuffle the shop door had slammed shut – but it served as a beacon in the dark back alley, summoning whatever else lurked in the darkness towards him.  
He was being stupid, he decided, and unlocked the phone.  
The call screen flashed at him, the emergency number typed in and just a button away. For a moment his fingers hovered there. Not calling the police would probably be the dumbest thing he'd ever done.  
He glanced at the stranger on the ground, and his arm twinged. He ran a finger over the place the stranger's hand had been in those brief moments. The shirt there was ragged and torn, as if the edges had been burned away, and his bare skin felt... Odd.  
Nearby, the man (?) stirred.  
Footsteps.  
Hajime fumbled with his phone and whipped the light up to point down the alley. Two figures stood over him. One, silver-haired, with a mole under one eye, bent down and picked something up of the ground.  
"Was that the one?" He asked his companion.  
The other walked over to the unconscious man and pulled him up. "It's him."  
The silver-haired man stowed whatever he'd picked up away and moved over to Hajime.  
"He's human?" He asked the other man.  
"Yeah." He had dark hair which fell over his eyes.  
Shell shocked, Hajime looked between them. If he was human, who was the other man? The dark haired one pulled a gun and pointed it calmly at the strangers head. He'd been the one to shoot the creature before, Hajime was sure. Obviously, it was something he'd done a lot. A strange feeling arose in Hajime's chest, like a trapped bird struggling to escape.  
"Wait!" The silver-haired one shouted. He was inspecting Hajime's arm, holding it in a deceivingly soft grasp. The dark-haired man paused immediately, though his finger twitched on the trigger. "Bring him here." The other ordered.  
The dark-haired man dragged the stranger over in a way which couldn't be good for his injuries.  
"I'm Sugawara." The silver-haired man told him, "this may be a futile thing to say, but please do not panic. You aren't in any immediate danger."  
Emphasis, Hajime supposed, on immediate.  
The stranger stirred as the dark-haired man set him down by Sugawara, then jerked upright with a groan. He eyed the dark haired one, and then Sugawara. Finally, his eyes settled on Hajime.  
"I guess you took care of the hell-hound then." He said.  
"Why do we postpone the demon's death?" The dark-haired man asked, the gun pointed levelly at the stranger's head.  
"I prefer 'other worldly being'." He said. "Ah - now, now, Tobio-chan, if you kill me you'll be breaking your precious oath."  
"Kageyama!" Sugawara held up a hand warningly as Tobio - Kageyama's - finger twitched on the trigger again.  
"Your superior has the right idea," the stranger said. He held out his own hand and fitted it to Hajime's shoulder. Hajime flinched but his touch, for some reason, lessened the stinging.  
"You know what this is." The stranger said to Sugawara. He met his eyes calmly. "I've bonded our souls. If I die, he dies. You cannot harm humans, I’ve read your oath.” He grinned that wide, shark-like grin, again.  
"Why?" Kageyama asked. He hadn't lowered the gun and Hajime had the uncomfortable feeling it was pointed at him as much as the... Demon.  
"I am in a tight spot." The demon said, "I need healing, for one." He said, "for another, I've run into a spot of trouble with some of the other greater demons."  
"You want our protection." Sugawara stated.  
"I require it for three months or so. It should be nothing too strenuous. Send one of your apprentices, if you will. The little shrimpy-chan." He glanced slyly at Kageyama, who's fingers twitched again.  
"If you say another word about Hinata-" He begun.  
Sugawara placed a hand on his arm. "We will make a contract." He said.  
"He won't give us his name." Kageyama said.  
"Oikawa." The demon provided with a sneer.  
"Your full name." Kageyama hissed. His eyes were icy.  
"Let's go inside." Sugawara said. "That shop, it is yours, yes?"  
“I work there.” Hajime said, as if the distinction made any difference. Ukai wouldn’t be arriving until opening next morning. Sugawara helped him up. Kageyama muttered something under his breath and strode ahead of them, wrenching the door open. Hajime glanced behind them, and caught sight of Oikawa struggling up, a grimace twisting his face. Once he'd dragged himself into the shop the extent of his injuries became evident.  
Even though he was deathly pale and hunched over in pain, Hajime could tell he was tall, and probably spent a lot of time outside. His hair was probably light brown but currently matted with blood. The arm which he was using to brace against the door frame was slender, almost skinny, with wrist bones which stuck out.  
"Stitch him up." Sugawara said to Kageyama.  
Kageyama's face screwed up in disgust. "I will not." He said.  
Sugawara massaged his temples and sighed a long-suffering sigh. "Hajime, are there any medical supplies you can get us?"  
Hajime nodded and found his way to the right aisle. He was sorely tempted to grab himself a drink while he was at it, but his wits were something he'd need around today. Instead he got a generous amount of bandages and disinfectant and brought them back. Oikawa had pushed aside the products on one of the display kiosks and was sitting down.  
"What's going on?" He asked finally. His voice was raspy and a little faint. His mouth felt dry – had he screamed when the hell-hound attacked him? He couldn’t remember.  
"Unfortunately, you've been mixed up in something rather complicated." Sugawara said. His brow furrowed as he threaded a needle.  
Oikawa pulled his shirt over his head and flung it to the side. It landed with a wet slap on the vinyl floor. There was a gash which stretched across his chest and shoulder. Lose skin hung in jagged lines at the edges. It was still bleeding sluggishly.  
"I have practice at seven tomorrow." Hajime realized numbly. He tore his eyes away from Oikawa, who’s chest was crisscrossed with an ungodly amount of scares. Life would still go on, wouldn't it?  
Oikawa laughed a laugh which turned into a gasp as Sugawara begun the first stitch. "I think I picked an interesting human." He managed. His voice was still admirably light, but his hands bunched into fists at his sides.  
"Don’t worry." Kageyama said to Hajime. His words of comfort, if that was what they were meant to be, were painfully stiff.  
"Can you-" he'd been going to ask if Kageyama could explain what was happening, but he wasn't in the position to demand anything. Kageyama, however, seemed to understand that at least.  
He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped at Sugawara's glare.  
"You’re too blunt." The silver-haired man said.  
"You'd tell him about the gates of hell and demons and angels all at once." Oikawa said. He yelped as Sugawara stabbed the needle in rather vengefully.  
Hajime's head reeled.  
"There is a lot going on this world which most humans are oblivious to." Sugawara said gently. "I'm sure Oikawa will tell you the details-" he begun another stitch and Oikawa flinched- "later. You will have to remain near to each other until the contract is over."  
As he said this, Kageyama drew out a scroll of paper and a pen.  
“Quaint,” Oikawa muttered, “where’s your feathered quill?”  
Hajime glanced back at him. Some other place, some other time, his wry humour might have been amusing, but Oikawa did not seem to be a person to wait for the right place or time.  
Kageyama didn’t retaliate, with some difficulty it seemed. Sugawara finished the last stitch and placed the curved needle to the side. He began applying the disinfectant again.  
"We will grant you immunity from the guild, except in the opportunity you act against our rules." Sugawara said.  
"That doesn't sound very much like immunity." Oikawa told him, growing bolder as Sugawara tucked the needle away.  
"This will sting." He said pointedly instead, pressing the soaked cotton swab into the wound and ignoring Oikawa's hiss of pain.  
"You will follow human laws - no stealing, no killing-"  
"No going over the speed limit, no jaywalking, I get it." Oikawa said impatiently, steadily ignoring the rest of the disinfectant Sugawara dabbed on him.  
"We will give you exactly three months." Sugawara said.  
Oikawa opened his mouth to protest, but Kageyama's hand was resting atop his gun. At least he had some sense of self-preservation.  
"Partial names do not contain the kind of power to make this contract unbreakable." Sugawara added, unphased, "but the name you have given us will be enough to ensure you will face consequences if you break the contract. In return for our protection over you and-" He paused.  
It was obviously a cue for Hajime to reveal his name, but he hesitated. Could a name really hold any power?  
"Iwaizumi Hajime." Kageyama provided, and Hajime flinched - before realizing he was still wearing his damn name tag.  
"-Iwaizumi you will, at the end of the three months, dissolve your bond."  
"You'd better get that in writing." Oikawa said, "can you write, O Demon-slayer?"  
Kageyama sneered and begun writing. At least both his hands were occupied, so his gun remained safely in his belt.  
"Were did you get the power to bind your souls?" Sugawara asked. He was putting away the medical supplies after bandaging him up.  
"A magician never reveals his secrets." Oikawa said. He leaned over gingerly to grab his shirt. It left a stain on the floor where it’d been. "I’ll need a clean one." He declared.  
Hajime nodded to the section near the front of the store automatically. Oikawa hobbled over and begun searching through the rack.  
Sugawara passed him over the paper. Hajime tried to read the contract, but half the things there made no sense to them. He just signed his name where Sugawara pointed, underneath he and Kageyama's name, and wondered if he was signing over his soul for what seemed to be the second time that night.  
He felt an odd tug in his stomach as he looked over to where Oikawa was finally pulling a blue and white shirt over his head.  
"The security camera's-" he remembered suddenly.  
"We have a guy for that," Sugawara said, waving his concerns away. "It will be as if nothing happened. Someone will even clean the store. We won't even be in sight most of the time - except, of course, you'll be living with Oikawa."  
"Living with- excuse me?" He caught a glimpse of Kageyama from the corner of his eye and got the feeling they shared the same sentiment.  
"It's a matter of convenience." Sugawara said apologetically.  
"I have a roommate." Hajime protested.  
"Now you have two." Oikawa said, slinging an arm around Hajime's shoulder. Hajime shrugged it off.  
"Tell him you're related, if you must." Sugawara said.  
"Matsukawa has known me since we were children."  
"Tell him you're madly in love with me." Oikawa said, "he'd believe that." He winked.  
Hajime shook his head in disbelief. The whole night had been a shit-show, to put it lightly, and it was only just past eleven.  
If the next three months were anything like this - if Oikawa was always like this - then he would have to hope that Matsukawa was perpetually grateful for that time Hajime had set he and Hanamaki up. He opened his phone back up and went onto his contact.  
There was one text from him already -  
'Hanamaki's roommate is out, I'm staying at his tonight.'  
Sugawara patted him on the shoulder, "worry about that later then." He said.  
Hajime looked over at him suspiciously, but Sugawara held up his hands innocently. His neat eyebrows arched gently, he was the picture of innocence.  
And so Hajime found himself sitting across from a demon in his living room.  
The moment Kageyama and Sugawara had left house, Oikawa slumped down onto the couch. He made a noise somehow between a sigh and a pained groan, his brow deeply furrowed. When he opened his eyes, they met Hajime's and he hurriedly straightened up.  
“Your arm,” He said.  
“What?” Hajime asked, reaching to touch the handprint.  
“No, your other.” Oikawa waved him over, and Hajime found himself coming with hardly a second thought. His long fingers wrapped around his wrist and eased his sleeve up. There were welts in his arm where the things claws had gripped him.  
“I could feel your pain,” Oikawa said with a grimace. Hajime couldn’t imagine how he’d felt anything over the several stitches which now marched across his chest, but Oikawa clarified; “human bodies are such delicate, painful things.”  
“And you’re pretentious,” Hajime muttered darkly.  
“Put some disinfectant on that, or I will.” Oikawa said.  
Hajime again did as he said, but only because it benefitted him, he told himself. Not because Oikawa looked oddly concerned, and certainly not because there was an odd part of him which felt compelled to do his bidding.  
"So where do I sleep?" Oikawa asked finally, once Hajime was stuffing the wrapping of the plaster in the bin.  
He eyed the couch for a moment, but Oikawa's legs would hang over the end. Causing the person who’d, for all intents and purposes, gotten him involved in an interspecies, supernatural conflict, a little discomfort shouldn’t be an idea which made him feel guilty, but for a moment, before he'd remembered Hajime's presence, Oikawa had looked smaller, and utterly exhausted.  
"My room." He decided. With great effort, Oikawa hauled himself up and followed Hajime to the bed.  
He leaned against the doorway as Hajime cleared a space on the bedside table and straightened the covers. He was almost too big for the modest space.  
"Where will you go?" Oikawa asked.  
Hajime shrugged, "the couch."  
“We can share the bed,” Oikawa said with a wink, sitting down a little clumsily.  
“You’d bleed on me.” Hajime decided.  
And the bed was a single bed.  
And Oikawa could murder him in his sleep.  
It'd be a miracle if he got any kind of rest in the next week, let alone that night anyway.  
He left Oikawa to his own devices after grabbing some pyjama’s. He wasn’t much shorter than Oikawa, so he wriggled about until he found a position that didn’t feel like it’d break his neck. It already ached from that creature, and realized as he ran his tongue over it, that his lip was split.  
That night he walked the boarder of sleep, enough to think, when his alarm went off the next morning, that the last night had been a dream - but the footsteps which moved around the house were too light to be a sleepy Matsukawa's.  
Grudgingly, he got up, his head pounding. Oikawa was in the kitchen, rummaging through his fridge. He barely favoured his wounded side, though Hajime could pick out the bulk of the bandages underneath his shirt. Long fingers ran idly over the things in the fridge as he read the labels. His hair was messy, but in a controlled way, as if he'd ran his hands through it rather than slept in it. He’d obviously splashed some cold water over his face as well; there was still a little moisture clinging to his eyelashes.  
"Your arms." He said when he saw Hajime.  
He looked down and found bruises circling his arm, peeking out from under the plasters he’d put on the night before.  
"It must've been the..."  
"Hellhound." Oikawa supplied.  
"Right, yeah." Hajime searched through the medicine cabinet for some Panadol. He felt like he was hungover, or had the flu.  
"They're exactly what they sound like." Oikawa added on, "hounds from hell." He paused and shut the fridge, holding a jar of jam in one hand. "What do you actually want to know?"  
At least the mocking tone had vanished from the demons voice.  
"Everything," he decided.  
"All at once?" Oikawa laughed. The cold amusement was back. "There's a lot you humans don't know."  
"The relevant things." Hajime amended.  
"I," Oikawa placed a hand on his chest, "am an otherworldly being."  
"So that’s why you look…” Hajime trailed off and gestured at Oikawa instead.  
A small amount of light filtered through the kitchen blinds, enough to gently illuminate Oikawa’s face. He had smooth skin, a strong jaw, and sharp cheek bones. It was the kind of beauty you couldn’t help but notice – when you weren’t in a near-death situation, Hajime amended. He felt clumsy and blunt in comparison; Oikawa, ironically, looked angelic.  
“I look…?” He prompted.  
Hajime shrugged, turning to pour himself some water – and to hide the redness he knew was creeping up his neck.  
"I'm flattered," Oikawa said (he’d known exactly what Hajime had been going to say, he just wanted to rub it in, the arrogant idiot). He flung an arm around Hajime’s shoulder, "but my kind isn't meant to pretty, I'm just unique."  
“Then what are demons meant to do?” Hajime asked.  
Oikawa exhaled roughly, "damn Kageyama, barely a day and you’re already prejudiced."  
"We grew up with stories of demons being… demonic.” Hajime gulped down the water and Panadol, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of Oikawa’s arm. “What was he?"  
"A demon hunter. A guild member, officially, of course, but if we’re demons then…” Oikawa shook his head and stepped away from Hajime to pace around the kitchen, “technically, they're sworn to keep people safe. It's an impossible promise, by the way and it isn’t what they live by."  
He placed some bread in the toaster and fiddled with the knob for a moment, turning the temperature almost right down. "You humans are always getting yourselves into trouble. You seek out haunted houses and ghosts, and you create demons as fast as they destroy 'em."  
"Create demons?"  
"And ghosts and things. Ghosts are just memories. Demons are created through fear and hatred - accidentally of course, but there is a lot of it to go around."  
"What about you then?"  
"Me?" Oikawa looked taken aback, though he recovered quickly, "I'm neither of those things. I crawled up from the depths of hell, hmm..." He checked the calendar, "twenty years ago."  
"Why?"  
"A change in scenery." Oikawa said, a shadow flickering over his face. Somehow his whole demeanour was unsettling. His sense of humour was like grease paint, smeared over his face, and Hajime could only just glimpse what was underneath. A chill ran down his spine.  
The toast popped and they both jumped.  
"You're going to class?" Oikawa asked, fishing it out.  
"I have practice first." Hajime said.  
"Are you sure? Isn't the whole 'supernatural' thing giving you a - a-" Oikawa snapped his fingers as he thought of a word- "a mid-life crisis?"  
"This better not be the middle of my life."  
"You've still got time if it is." Oikawa said with a grin. Then, he sobered up, "you should stay home and watch the lectures online or catch up another day." He pushed.  
Despite Oikawa being the literal reason Hajime's life was currently a mess, he couldn't find it in himself to tell him that he just wanted space for a few hours. He told him he had an exam instead.  
-  
If Hajime had actually had an exam he would have been screwed. His mind was full of a thousand different thoughts and he found himself googling demons on his phone under the table.  
Google, of course, was full of shit (or at least he hoped it was).  
(Apparently linking souls was a life-long thing)  
(Additionally, demons were described as blood-thirsty without exception)  
-  
He arrived home to hear voices within the flat, and inside, found Oikawa talking amiably to Matsukawa on the couch. Hajime looked between them, trying to assess the damage. Matsukawa gave him no clues - he was a friendly person, after all. Oikawa gave him only a wicked smirk from behind Matsukawa's back, which could have meant anything.  
"Iwaizumi," Matsukawa said, "you should have told us your friend was coming to stay. We can get out the futon to put in your room."  
"Right..." Hajime said, "uh, it was all very short notice."  
That ruled one thing out, at least. When Oikawa and Hajime got a moment alone Oikawa leaned in and told him that he'd convinced Matsukawa that he was a friend of Hajime's Mum, who was staying with them temporarily until he found his own flat in Tokyo.  
When Hajime asked how he'd convinced him, Oikawa had only winked and said that he could be very persuasive.  
They dragged out the futon from underneath Matsukawa’s bed and set it up in Hajime's room. He couldn't find a means to protest, and so Oikawa became a part of the household.  
-  
It was surprisingly easy to get used to living with a demon. Perhaps it was because Oikawa didn't look like a demon - no, even Matsukawa, who was completely enamoured by Hanamaki, said that Oikawa was a beautiful human being, and Hajime wasn't going to disagree.  
On the occasions they were alone and Hajime changed Oikawa's bandaging and checked the stitching, he had to tear his eyes away from Oikawa's torso. There were scars crisscrossing the smooth skin which gave him a rugged look, in contrast to his groomed hair and pretty face. The way his breathing stuttered as Hajime unwound the bandaging should not have been quite so mesmerising.  
When Oikawa asked him if he saw something he liked, Hajime only commented that his wounds were healing unnaturally fast – and they were. It’d been barely a week and the skin had healed almost enough to take the stitches out.  
He never seemed to sleep either. He was always awake before either of them and although he lay down to sleep when Hajime did, his breathing never quite took on the deep, rhythmic pattern of someone who was dreaming.  
The first time he disappeared, he was gone for two nights, and on the second, Hajime found himself glancing anxiously at the door.  
"Maybe he's at another friend’s house." Matsukawa offered.  
"Huh? I wasn't-"  
"You were." Matsukawa assured him. "Looking at the door."  
Hajime shook his head.  
"You made enough food for him too." Matsukawa pointed out lazily. It was evening and he was just finishing dinner. It’d been Hajime’s turn to cook.  
"I-yeah."  
"He's not really a family friend, is he?" Matsukawa stacked his plate and eyed Hajime beside him on the sofa. The show he'd insisted they watch droned on in the background.  
"What makes you think that?" Hajime asked.  
"Your Mum would have texted the two of us." He said with a shrug.  
"So who do you think he is?"  
"As long as he isn't a serial killer you're hiding from the police..." Matsukawa decided, "but you like him, right?"  
"What? No?"  
Matsukawa cackled, "I see you watching him. He sleeps in your room, for heaven’s sake."  
"You curse like an eighty year old." Hajime told him, resigned to the heat that rose to his face.  
"Petty." Matsukawa retorted, shit-eating grin still on his face.  
He was misreading the situation, of course. Hajime did look at Oikawa - he couldn't help but be wary when he was about.  
He wasn't an idiot. If Oikawa were a danger to he and Matsukawa they'd already be dead. That meant either Oikawa didn't kill people, at least without reason, or that the soul binding, whatever Sugawara had called it, was actually effective.  
But there was something off about his face. Pupils which were slightly too narrow, incisors which were slightly too sharp. His movements, too, were eerily silent. He could approach someone without being heard, enter a room without being noticed. Hajime was getting used to looking up to Oikawa, doing something normal but completely silently.  
Except now he wasn't here at all and Hajime found himself looking up to see empty space. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that, except that he knew Oikawa was doing something dangerous and he could only hope he didn't get himself (and by extension, Hajime) killed.  
Yeah, that must be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How the frick do u do italics???  
> Also hi, is there like a Haikyuu discord or something?? Because I really really wanna fangirl with someone  
> (Also my tumblr, hmu: https://catcusxx.tumblr.com/ )


	2. Chapter 2

He awoke when Oikawa returned late that night, to him easing open the bedroom door. The fact that Hajime heard him at all must've meant Oikawa wanted him to - or he was injured.   
"Where were you?" He asked, rubbing his eyes as Oikawa flicked on the light once he’d shut the door behind him.   
"Looking for ingredients." He said. He seemed fine - still wearing the t-shirt he'd gotten from the convenience store the other day, his hair not at all dishevelled.   
"For what?"   
"Well, it won't be a cake, that's for sure. Do you perhaps have something I can store this in?" He held out a glass vial of some, dark liquid.   
"What is it for?" Hajime repeated.   
"Not to be deterred, I see," Oikawa said. He placed the vial carefully beside his futon. "It's a spell, of sorts. One which will make me infinitely more powerful. I made a deal with a demon to get it, you know."   
"That's stupid." Hajime told him.  
Oikawa considered this, tilting his head to one side, "yes, I suppose to you it may seem so. I think I was quite clever."  
"What did the demon get for it?"   
"The safe return of his pet goldfish."   
"That's bribery." Hajime said, though, like most of Oikawa's answers, it wasn't a serious one.   
"It's clever." Oikawa repeated, then he yawned, "the damn thing was hidden in the caverns off the coast, and teleporting saps my energy. Can I use the shower?"   
Hajime nodded and Oikawa slipped back out. A few moments later he could hear the sound of the shower water like rain pattering on the roof. He wondered what Matsukawa thought of Oikawa’s late return.  
Despite his immaculate appearance, Oikawa reappeared in Hajime's room scant minutes later, with a towel slung low around his waist and clothes bundled in one hand. He’d been at Hajime’s just shy of two weeks, and the wound was almost completely healed. Somewhere along the way he’d taken out the stiches himself.   
Hajime didn't let his gaze wander any further - to where he knew he would see Oikawa’s hipbones jutting tantalizingly above the towel.  
"Do you perhaps have spares?" Oikawa asked, waving the bundle of clothes in front of Hajime's face to get his attention.   
"Buy some," Hajime said, but reluctantly climbed out of bed to begin rifling through draws. He came up with a hoodie and a pair of shorts which would fit - though they might be a little big on Oikawa's smaller frame.   
"I will, I will." Oikawa said, catching the clothes Hajime threw. He caught only a glimpse of Oikawa's back as he climbed into them. His shoulder blades stuck out like broken wings, and more pale scars crisscrossed his skin.   
He wondered how Oikawa was so carefree when so many things had hurt him from behind.   
"I'm gonna sleep now," he declared finally, and climbed into the futon. A pause - "you've changed the covers," he realized.   
"You smell." Hajime said, turning his face to the wall, as if Oikawa could see the flush spreading across his cheeks in the dark. He wouldn't put it past him, he decided, glaring at the off-white paint.   
He'd been waiting for him, just as Matsukawa had pointed out the day before.   
"I was wearing discount clothing after being attacked by a demi-god." Oikawa said.   
"He probably had a good reason to attack you." Hajime said. He thought of the deep gouge across Oikawa's chest and winced in sympathy anyway.   
"Iwa-channn." Oikawa whined.   
Hajime made a face at the nickname. It was childish, and a little mocking, but it also sounded very good on Oikawa's lips.   
"You can't say I smell anymore anyways." Oikawa said, "I used your shampoo. Cherry blossom, very manly."   
"You're the one who used it."   
Oikawa said something else, but his voice was tired and fading.   
Slowly his breathing evened out, and Hajime was left awake, staring at the faint shadows on the roof.  
"So he does sleep." He said softly, as Oikawa's deep, heavy, breathing filled the room. It was an altogether comforting sound.   
He fell asleep himself before he could discover whether or not Oikawa snored - he fell asleep wondering what Oikawa's face looked in the dark.  
-  
Hajime dreamed for the first time in ages that night.   
When he was a child he dreamed every night, he'd even used to write them down. He’d had nightmares before too, just enough be familiar with the feeling.   
This nightmare was different. And it was a nightmare – somehow, he knew. Dreams were softer. The feeling of wrongness was abstract and easy to ignore, not like this, a sharp, jagged rift.   
There was less chaos and destruction than in any nightmare he’d had before. The colours were muted like an old home movie.   
The sticky air cloyed in his lungs and a yellow sky with no sun hung over his head. Everything smelt acrid, like the alleyway with the hell hound. His hands in front of his face were small, a little delicate, and they were shaking.   
He was scared of something; he was terrified.   
His whole body was filled with a kind of foreboding. Suddenly his barren surroundings were endlessly large and overwhelming. He knew that he could run for hours and get nowhere.   
The sound of footsteps reached his ears and he spun around - but there was no one immediately near him. Then, in the distance, he spotted a figure emerging from the gloom. It should have been too far away for him to hear it, but their every move rang in his ears. They were running, their breathing harsh and exhausted. Running towards him.   
He'd never seen the approaching figure before - except he had. When their face came into view Hajime realized they were a beautiful woman. In the dream his heart filled with longing - for something old and familiar, a feeling he couldn’t pin down.  
She was closer still now. He focused and realized that no, her face was grotesque.  
Horror blossomed across his chest.   
Still beautiful, but an empty, carved out, hollow, shell. Her hair fell limp and spidery around her shoulders. Her mouth was open in a silent scream. Her eyes were empty, black pits.   
He took a step back, felt his feet crunch something beneath them. A set of bones. He looked down, realized they were hers; strands of black hair still clung to the mummified skin of the skull.  
The woman who never had been.   
He looked at his hands again. They were painted red to his elbows. Not paint - he knew - because the substance was warm and he could smell it, taste it even, metallic on the tip of his tongue. It gummed underneath his fingernails and trickled from his fingertips onto the ground. A clump of hair was tangled in his fingers. It wasn’t his own.   
The mind that was not his ran in circles.   
There was someone else here with him.  
-  
His eyes shot open in the dark. Perhaps it had been less of a nightmare and more of a surreal dream - but the sick feeling in his stomach didn't vanish. There was the rustle of sheets and a harsh gasp. He could just barely see the outline of Oikawa sitting bolt upright, his shoulder's heaving.   
Somehow, Hajime knew they'd experienced the same dream. He shivered, deeply unsettled.   
"Oikawa?"   
Oikawa's breathing slowed in an effort to control it, "Iwaizumi... Go back to sleep."   
"That dream..." Hajime sat up as well.   
"It was my dream." Oikawa said. His voice cracked. The feeling in Hajime's stomach redoubled. "Just forget it, please."   
He hadn't sounded like this when he'd been bleeding out in the alleyway, like he was used to physical pain. Like the claws of the demi-god hadn’t cut as deeply as that nightmare.  
"I-" Hajime didn't know what to say. He wanted to offer words of comfort, something, but silence fell upon the room.  
He swung his feet over the side of the bed and shuffled to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Every bone in his body ached in sympathy for Oikawa and he wasn't sure why.  
Whatever the nightmare had been, it'd been far worse for Oikawa than it had for him.   
He returned and fumbled for Oikawa's hands in the dark, pressed the glass to his fingers. Something told him Oikawa preferred it this way, the darkness. For his vulnerability to remain unseen.   
Oikawa's breathing begun to calm, and his glass clinked as he set it on the bedside table. Hajime tried again to find something to say, because fear still lingered in his stomach and he was beginning to feel it wasn't his.   
If they could share dreams, what else could they share?   
Their beds were only a few centimetres apart, and Hajime watched as Oikawa lay back down, pulling the covers up to his chin even though he must be sweating. Hajime hesitated. Reached across the gap between them.  
"What?"   
He hadn't been wrong before; Oikawa had uncannily good night vision.   
"I don't know... You just look like you could use a hand." It was a weak form of comfort, he imagined. His fingers twitched and he made to withdraw his hand, but Oikawa lunged across and grabbed it, almost as if he couldn’t stop himself. After a moment of just holding it there, his fingers grabbing Hajime’s wrist as if still scared he’d withdraw, he linked their fingers. His hand was clammy, and Hajime found himself rubbing circles in his palm with his thumb.  
"You can't even see me." Oikawa said finally.   
Hajime hummed in agreement. He wondered if Oikawa knew how much his voice shook.   
He didn’t know how, but he must've fallen asleep before Oikawa, because when he awoke, Oikawa was gone and his arm hung limply over the side of the bed.   
-  
It was movie night, as Matsukawa so kindly informed him when he arrived home after work the next day.   
They were not going to re-watch Godzilla, he'd added.  
Hajime wasn't going to settle for some chick-flick, or another murder mystery like Hanamaki always seemed to suggest. They were at odds.  
"Okay, then how about BuzzFeed unsolved?" Came Oikawa's voice. He was changing into some clothes he'd presumably brought that day. Somewhere along the line he'd gotten hold of apartment keys (he suspected Matsukawa, of course, but perhaps Oikawa had the ability to walk through walls or something), and had arrived home a few minutes before them.   
"It's a movie night." Matsukawa protested. He'd already synced his laptop up with the T.V. and was scrolling aimlessly through Netflix.  
"We can watch a few in a row." Oikawa protested, "why can't we watch Youtube with popcorn?"   
"Why do you want to watch Youtube so badly?" Hajime asked. After what he'd seen the previous week he couldn't imagine finding the mockery of the supernatural or true crime that interesting.   
Oikawa just shrugged, "I haven't had access to WiFi for ages." He admitted.   
Hajime caved in the end - it was basically a murder mystery, but without the murder being solved.  
Hanamaki and Matsukawa sat comfortably together on one of the sofa's, holding the bowl of popcorn.   
Oikawa pressed play and hovered for a moment until Hajime made space for him on the sofa. He began to wonder if his roommate had intentionally left the smaller sofa for he and Oikawa.   
Things had been odd since the previous night, most of all because Oikawa so determinedly pretended nothing had happened. It had begun to seem like a dream itself, except when Oikawa met his eyes he looked away.   
He didn't act shy in any sense of the word; settling onto the sofa, he slung his legs over Hajime's lap and stretched out lazily. He talked throughout the thing as well, joining in with Hanamaki's speculations and laughing as the show delved into the supernatural.   
But anything real and he closed off. So long as he was acting, it seemed, all was well.   
When demons were mentioned, his eyes found Hajime's and he grinned, nudging his elbow with his foot.   
Hajime, of course, moved to push Oikawa's legs off him, but somehow, he found his hand still resting lightly on Oikawa's ankles when the show finished. Oikawa was dozing lightly, his chest rising and falling evenly.   
It was only after Hanamaki left and Matsukawa winked at them as he went to his own room that Hajime realized that the hoodie Oikawa was cozied up with was his own.   
He hesitated for a long moment before leaning down and scooping Oikawa up as gently as possible. He was still incredibly light, and he didn’t stir even as Hajime placed him back down on his futon.   
-  
Oikawa seemed naturally comfortable with physical contact. During conversation he had a habit of touching arms or shoulders. He hugged in greeting, and when he was feeling childish (which was often) he demanded piggy-back rides.   
Hajime didn't (or tried not to) think too much of it. It was a façade, after all.  
At nights, though, the hand Oikawa extended towards him was more tentative, and his voice quieter. It was moments like those Hajime couldn't help but wonder exactly what Oikawa meant to him.  
They were plagued by nightmares often.   
Hajime always awoke when Oikawa did, as if their consciousness were linked in the waking world as well as their dreams. He didn't want to imagine the implications of that, but at nights, at least, he was glad for it, because it meant Oikawa didn’t have to suffer alone.   
He reached out to Oikawa, who clung onto his clammy hand; they'd both experienced the same nightmare, after all. There was always blood, always terror, always small things that Oikawa recognized and Hajime felt recognition for. Always figures in the shadows.   
The setting never remained the same. Once, he'd found himself sitting in the kitchen of their flat, once in the convenience store. Each time something was just slightly off.   
"Sorry." Oikawa's voice came to him, quiet and shaky in the dark.   
"S'fine." Hajime said, lying back down. He didn't let go of Oikawa's hand.   
"No, you have morning practice... I just-"   
"I've survived on less sleep," Hajime reassured him wryly.   
"If I'd known the bond worked like this I'd have... I don't know, found someone who deserved to experience that." His fingers twitched in Hajime's.   
"No one deserves whatever... that is." Because even though the nightmares were different, and vague at times, every single one of them was steeped in terror and grotesque in its realism.   
Oikawa grunted in vague agreement.   
"Do you want to talk about it?" Hajime finally offered gingerly.   
Oikawa's hand left his, and he heard the other getting up.   
"No." He said.   
For a moment, Hajime mourned the loss of Oikawa's fingers in his, then felt a gentle weight on his mattress.  
"I'm sorry for waking you," Oikawa said again.   
There was a long silence, and Hajime squinted at his alarm clock; he had another hour before he had to wake up. He ached to reach out to Oikawa, still perched awkwardly on the end of his bed. He didn't know why he'd come up there in the first place. Didn't want to scare him away. Oikawa was always skittish after these nightmares.   
"You're cutting off the circulation in my feet," he finally settled on.   
"Oh." Oikawa shifted, then lay down beside him.   
Hajime shifted so his back was against the wall to give him space. It was a single bed, so their knees still bumped together and he could feel Oikawa's breath against his cheek.  
"This is fine, right?" Oikawa said. He was still on top of the blankets, his face inches from Hajime's but carefully out of reach.  
Hajime swallowed. He had the feeling Oikawa could see him much better than he could see Oikawa. One day, he wanted to be that close to Oikawa in the light. His face was an expressive one, for all intents and purposes, but whatever he was really thinking was always buried.   
Hajime let his eyes fall shut as he wondered what would be worse; to continue facing Oikawa, where he could surely read every thought which flickered across his features, or to turn so that they were practically spooning. He could imagine, even as he tried to avoid it, a different scenario, where Oikawa wrapped an arm around his waist, where they lay flush underneath the covers.  
If Oikawa could read minds he was screwed.   
Instead he turned his thoughts to what the other could possibly be thinking about now. What could possibly be the root of all that terror he felt inside of him. It was more than terror, he realized sleepily. It was guilt as well. As if he'd done something utterly unforgivable.   
Later he realized that truly, the only common factor in those dreams was Oikawa himself.   
\-   
It wasn't a nightmare, that night, Hajime's eyes simply sprung open in the dark. He found himself looking over at Oikawa's shadowy form as he stood.   
"Where are you going?" Hajime asked, his voice hoarse from sleep. It had to be past midnight.   
Oikawa paused, "to pick moon flowers. They have to be harvested on the night of the full moon."   
"Sounds like bullshit." Hajime mumbled.   
There was a long moment of silence.   
"You can come." Oikawa offered finally, "it's one of the least dangerous places I've been."   
It occurred to Hajime that what Oikawa did was none of his business. It also occurred to him that he had class at eight, and then work after that.   
But emotions he'd begun to associate with Oikawa roiled in his stomach, some dark, foreign, toxic combination of feelings that he couldn't begin to unpack.   
Who knew what Oikawa would do?   
So he stood up and shook off the sleep.   
"This had better be worth it." He said.   
"They're beautiful." Oikawa said, his voice dropping to a whisper as they entered the living room, "but perhaps you don't appreciate beauty? You've never looked twice at me." Oikawa was grinning at him.  
Hajime stayed silent, even as Oikawa's eyes flicked away uncertainly. Surely the other knew how often his eyes strayed? It was ridiculous, truly.   
Oikawa let them outside (he did, in fact, have the keys to the front door, Hajime noted), and led him through back alleys and side streets without any hesitation. Hajime kept pace.   
"Where are we going?" He asked finally, Oikawa's uncharacteristic silence eating away at him.   
"The graveyard." He said, glancing back at Hajime again. As they passed under one of the neon signs lining the street, his skin was bathed in red.   
Hajime shivered.   
"You didn't think I'd get it at a flower shop?" Oikawa asked lightly.   
Another sentence which didn't match how he felt. Hajime was beginning to become exhausted by feelings which weren’t his own (and those that were).   
The graveyard was located a small distance away from everything, although Hajime could still hear the muted sounds of traffic. The headstones were surrounded by a sea of neatly mown grass, but Oikawa made his way to the edge of the paddock and begun searching through the unkept boarders. His fingers nimbly parted the tangled grass and undergrowth, until he pulled away with several small, fragile flowers.  
As he held them, they begun to glow. At first the light was so faint that Hajime wasn't sure he was seeing anything at all, but as Oikawa's searched out flower after flower, his face was bathed in the silvery glow. It was as if he were holding moonlight cupped in his hands.   
"Here." He said finally, handing them to Hajime. There was a moment where they simply stood, Hajime's hands cupping Oikawa's. He drew in a breath, and then two, wanting to freeze the time around them and close the space between them all at once.   
Then, Oikawa stepped away and beckoned for him to follow him along the row of graves. It was obvious his eyes were scanning the headstones. Finally, he knelt down in front of a non-descript grey gravestone. There were no flowers near it, and lichen coated the edges that were unpolished.   
Oikawa bowed his head.   
"I shouldn't be showing you this." He said, "I'm sure there's a birth certificate about somewhere."   
Even in the dim light, Hajime could make out the name 'Oikawa' on the graves. The date was that same day, thirteen years ago.   
"You were going to go alone." He said, his voice more accusatory than he'd intended.   
Oikawa shrugged, carefully casual, "I always have before."  
Hajime knelt down beside him, his hand hovering uncertainly at his back. This had to be the woman who he had nightmares about; the woman who he had nightmares about killing.   
"How long has it been?" He asked quietly, "since someone called you by your name?"   
"Long enough." Oikawa looked down at him hands, which idly plucked the grass around him. "Names hold power."   
They were quiet again, and Hajime loosened his hand around the flowers; he'd been gripping them hard enough to crush the stems. In his hands their light was dim.   
"If you tell Sugawara or Kageyama about this-" Oikawa begun, then paused, and realised a breath that sounded more like a chuckle than a sigh, "well, I suppose I can't stop you. This whole arrangement is out of necessity, after all."   
Hajime only offered him the bundle of flowers, lacking the will to contradict him. He wasn't beside Oikawa now because of obligation.   
"Those are for the spell." Oikawa said.   
"No they're not."   
Oikawa took them, reluctantly, grinning wryly. "No, they're not."   
In the morning the flowers would look unremarkable and lifeless to passer-by, but right now they glowed steadily, and he and Oikawa were the only people in the world.   
-  
It just hadn't been Hajime's day. It had started off well; he'd been accepted as a regular on his volleyball team, reached class on time, and met up with Hanamaki to eat lunch. Even the weather was nice.   
That was all counterbalanced by the fact he was now in a near death situation (or perhaps it was simply a death situation; things weren't going well).  
Somewhere along the way, he'd been chased into an area free of bystanders. The dank streets were eerily quiet, save for his hurried footsteps. The shadow of the demon loomed over him. It didn't look like a hell hound, and it certainly didn't look like Oikawa, but Hajime could tell from the acrid scent the moment he stepped off campus it was one of them.   
Wisps of shadows nipped at his ankles, and he fumbled for his phone. He would not be herded into some, darker, more secluded, alley, without any cell-phone coverage. There were no demon hunters around him regardless of how hard he looked, so he would have to call Oikawa.   
Except Oikawa lacked a phone, Hajime realized at the last moment. He'd made an email account, but he wouldn't have a library computer, or any computer to log on to - and why would he? their only correspondence before was to do with groceries, hardly urgent, and he'd created the account to sign up to other websites.   
Hajime turned another corner, his breathing harsh and his thoughts frenzied. Then he came to a halt; there was nowhere for him to go.   
Back against the wall, he whipped his head around to see the thing that was chasing him. It was a mass of insubstantial shadow, which somehow absorbed the light. It was unnaturally dark. A grotesquely grinning mouth tore a hole in the mass, filled with pointed teeth. He got the feeling that it could have killed him long ago; It'd been toying with him.   
Shit.   
Hajime pulled his phone out again. The police would probably know less then him but he needed to do something. Tendrils of darkness crept towards him and he fumbled with the lock screen. Fear ate away at his stomach, every bit as toxic as the rank smell of the demon.  
A rattling, tinny, laugh, left its lips, and he caught the lazy blink of yellow eyes amongst the mass of darkness.   
The tendrils retracted back into it, and he was facing something with limbs like his. The grinning mouth superimposed on the blank face was an altogether more intimidating vision. Behind the demon crept other shapes. He could hear them chattering at him, impatiently pressing forwards. The demon made some sort of sign, and the shadows approached.   
Then there was a shout, a blessedly familiar voice. He caught a glimpse of Oikawa, miraculously descending from one of the surrounding buildings like some, incredibly angry, guardian angel. He drew some sort of symbol in the air - Hajime could only see a blur of light following his finger - and a wall of flame enveloped the creatures nearest to him, singing the hair on his arms.   
For a moment, the surrounding alley lit up, shadows dancing on the walls.   
It was gone as quickly as it had arrived, and Oikawa landed lightly in front of him. The demon – the one that wanted him dead- was still standing amongst the haze. It hissed in laughter.   
"Get back," Oikawa repeated, and rolled up his sleeves.   
In another gesture, several more of the shadow-figures burst into flame - but the ones furthest away only sparked briefly.   
Oikawa crouched down, his hands curling into claws. One of the sleeves he'd pushed up before slid back down his arm, but he paid it no mind. Veins spiderwebbed under his skin, thrumming with a power. The demon took one step forwards, then two, its grinning mouth stretching wider, as if Oikawa was something amusing. He tensed and the corded muscles in his arms and neck stood out unnaturally.   
Then, he launched himself forward, landing on the demon, his hand reaching straight for its throat. He tore at it in a gesture that should have ripped it out, but the demon only re-solidified after his fingers.   
Oikawa swore under his breath. He tried again and his claws tore into the demons side. Black smoke poured out, clouding the air around them.   
Something thudded into Hajime's side and he fell, scrambling backwards. It was one of the shadow-creatures which had escaped Oikawa’s fire. He kicked at one and though his foot connected they only reformed again. Teeth dug into his leg and jerked again to dislodge it. His skin tore as the shadow creature twisted and then was forced to let go.   
They were insubstantial but as the light waned, they became more and more visible.   
His phone was still miraculously in his hands. He was clenching it tightly enough to break it, but he loosened his grip and fumbled to turn on the flashlight.   
The tinny beam lit the way in front of him, despite the darkness exuded by the other demon. The shadow creatures hovered at the edges, but he could see when they got too close, their edges became frayed.   
Outside the light they had four bony legs and humps of muscle near their heads. They were not pretty creatures and they did not look like they should be roaming this world.   
His phone had thirty percent battery, and though far from trusting of the lights power, he focused his gaze on the shapes in the black haze. His eyes were drawn to Oikawa.  
Oikawa was flung towards the wall like a ragdoll, but he stood seconds after the impact, in time to catch the demons next attack. Hajime could feel the ghost of the impact. Oikawa didn’t react at all.   
There was something feral about his stance, the way he flung himself at the demon, regardless of safety. He was all claws and teeth, an impossible force. Hajime was beginning to feel that he wouldn't want to see his face.   
He could still catch flashes of the demon’s grin in the chaos, but it was more a snarl now. Its teeth snapped together with the force of a bear trap and Oikawa only just moved out of the way in time. It was as if he were searching for something, plunging his arms into the heart of the black mass.   
Each time he did, darkness spilled out and threatened to envelop him, but he ripped free. Hajime did catch a glimpse of his face, and the expression which twisted it was not unlike the demons.   
The… real demon’s… Hajime corrected confusedly.   
Finally, Oikawa lunged forwards and forced his hand into the mouth of the demon. Teeth clenched around his arm, but Oikawa didn't even flinch. He made a twisting motion inside the demons mouth, as if he were grabbing something. The flesh above his elbow tore with the movement but he paid it no mind.  
The bite on Hajime's leg throbbed, pale in comparison.   
The demon in front of him roared and Oikawa jerked his hand from its mouth, holding something tight in his fingers. Slowly, the mass of darkness dissolved, fell away into nothing. Oikawa's fist clenched around whatever was in his hand, and dark oily blood ran in rivulets down his arm, mingling with his own.   
They froze like that, the shadow creatures which surrounded Hajime dissolving and the beam of the flashlight wavering as his hands shook.   
"Are you hurt?" Oikawa asked finally. His eyes scanned Hajimes body with an odd intensity.   
Hajime shook his head, ignoring Oikawa's offered hand to help him up and settling more comfortably on the ground. The appendage was bloody, and the flesh above his elbow was twisted brutally.  
"Good thinking." Oikawa said, nodding at the light. His fingers twitched in empty air.  
Hajime only stared. Oikawa's pupils had narrowed to slits. He was stained with darkness, and he was grinning.   
The grin faded at Hajime's silence and he knelt beside him.  
"Are you hurt?" Oikawa asked again, his hands skimming Hajime’s arms. His touch was gentle and business-like all at once. Somehow the blood became easy to ignore.  
Hajime gripped Oikawa's injured wrist, "you are." He said. His voice was hoarse. Had he screamed?   
Oikawa looked down, and then winced, as if he hadn't even realized. "My arms a mess. You might have to stitch me up again."   
Hajime shook his head, eyes picking out the little parts of Oikawa which gave him away as something other than human. He'd somehow forgotten, over the month Oikawa had stayed with him, the way his face twisted when he fought, the inhuman glint of his eyes.  
Oikawa hadn't even noticed the pain. He'd been like a rabid dog, going for the kill with no other thought in his mind.  
Even so, his touch as he finally stood, and pulled Hajime up with him, was undeniably soft. Hajime took off his jersey and grabbed Oikawa's hand before he could pull away. Carefully, painstakingly, he wrapped it around the wound.   
"I won't bleed out," Oikawa said. He looked amused, but there was a small crack in his voice. Nothing someone who hadn't paid close attention to him for so long would notice.   
"You'll get blood on the carpet when we get home." Hajime said gruffly.   
Oikawa huffed a laugh.   
It was not enough to disguise his surprise at Hajime's kindness. They both knew his jibes were a flimsy guise. They were not enough to hide whatever else Hajime was feeling. The worry when Oikawa flung himself into danger. The tenderness now.   
Hajime was still holding his hand, and it wasn't some innate need for comfort which kept their fingers interlaced. It wasn't the lingering fear which made his heart pound.   
He was a step behind Oikawa, enough for his expression to be out of view. It was probably something stupidly soft.   
How had he come to feel more for this one, not-quite-person, in a month, than he had for anyone ever before? He jerked his hand away from Oikawa's and pressed it to the mark on his shoulder. It had to be that. It had to be the goddam soul binding.   
And there had to be a way to stop it, because this feeling was frighteningly real.   
-  
"You've been avoiding me." Oikawa said, his voice centimetres away from Hajime's ear.  
Hajime jumped. Lately, Oikawa had taken to announcing himself when he entered the room; a cough or rustling the pages of the book he was holding, but he'd been completely silent then. It was as if he feared Hajime would leave the moment he sensed his presence.   
He wasn't wrong, exactly. The silence between them was often filled by Matsukawa, who wasn't oblivious, just doing his best to bridge the gap between them as if Hajime wanted it to be bridged. When they were alone, however, his answers were undeniably curt.   
Oikawa hovered above him for a long moment, before resting his hands on either side of Hajime on the back of the sofa.   
"I'm not like them." He said suddenly. His hand twitched by Hajime's ear, as if in surprise. As if he hadn’t meant to say the words out loud.  
He was the kind of person to fill a silence, so Hajime remained quiet.   
"Those ones we fought the other day, that tried to-"   
"You said yourself, you're a demon." Hajime interrupted. He didn't want to think about the demons.  
"Kageyama said I was a demon." Oikawa corrected. Though a brief movement, his fingers curled on the sofa.   
"Other-worldly being, whatever."   
Oikawa glanced carefully around them, before settling tentatively on the sofa beside Hajime. Hajime shut the workbook he'd been studying.   
"I'm a half-demon," Oikawa said, his voice dropping, "and I need power to become a full one."   
"So... One of your parents was...?"   
"Human, yes. My mother." Oikawa cast his eyes downwards, "I believe she was an... Unwilling participant in my birth." He grimaced, “well, you saw her grave.”  
"You aren't like them." Hajime agreed, his words careful and measured. He wanted it to sound factual; he wanted Oikawa to believe it.  
Oikawa blinked, like he hadn’t expected him to.  
Hajime studied his face. Oikawa didn't seem like a demon to him, he wanted to correct. Because when he had been in danger, it’d been Oikawa he’d turned to for help. Because even though Oikawa looked wild and inhuman as he fought, he didn't feel inhuman.   
He'd have thought, before he met Oikawa, that a creature with no soul would be cold.  
Oikawa looked surprised, "I - uh-" he rested his chin on his hands- "I just wanted to point out that I'm not actually blood thirsty." The surprise vanished. Oikawa returned to looking at Hajime as he usually did; as if he knew every thought which went on inside his head.   
"I've seen you eat." Hajime said.   
Oikawa's words still weighed heavily on his mind, but it was difficult to say more when Oikawa was so determinedly detached. Gnawing his lower lip, he tried to think of something to say, but his mind ran in circles.   
"Thanks." Oikawa said finally.  
Hajime shrugged, looking down at the book he reopened. "For what?" He asked.   
This, this feeling in his chest (and the blush which he knew was spreading across his face), had to stop. Oikawa's handprint throbbed on his arm.   
Fingers brushed against his own and Oikawa slid his hands under Hajime's, loosened his grip from the book. Then, with a shit-eating grin, he turned the page.   
"You've been reading the same one for twenty minutes." He said, and left Hajime to mutter an insult after him. It occurred to him a moment later that that meant that Oikawa had been there for twenty minutes, perhaps leaning against the door frame as silent as ever, trying to find the words to say to Hajime.  
He begun reading the next page over and over again with a resigned sigh. If he hadn’t been able to concentrate before, he certainly couldn’t now.  
(He just needed a distraction).  
(And someone to fix this whole feelings thing asap).  
-  
Demons, it turned out, were surprisingly difficult to find. Oikawa had told him that being 'linked' meant that demons would seek him out; he was as much a target as Oikawa and twice as vulnerable. Yet now, after getting off work at lunch and walking through secluded places and flaunting the target on his head (or more accurately, arm), Hajime had come up with nothing.   
He had things to do, like homework and movie night with Matsukawa, and while neither of those things seemed particularly enticing, it was beginning to get dark. There was one last place to try.  
It was the graveyard, of course. Hajime had seen it three times; twice in Oikawa's nightmares, and once when they'd placed the flowers on his mothers grave. He'd never particularly thought of graveyards as haunted, but so many people couldn't possibly be wrong.   
The sun dipped lower and the streetlights flickered on. Hajime pushed lightly on the gate to the graveyard and it swung open soundlessly. It was light enough this time to see the neat gravel paths and the graves, all neatly adorned with talisman and fake flowers.  
He stood at the entrance for a second longer instead, waiting.   
The change in atmosphere was instant. Hajime braced himself, watched the shadows move and take shape. He wondered why nothing had happened when he was with Oikawa.   
A figure formed, and advanced towards him. Perhaps it'd just needed darkness. Despite his resolve, Hajime stepped back. With effort he stalled his movement; he needed to be in danger for this to work. At any moment he expected the demon to lash out, but it only approached him until it's choking scent filled his nostrils. Eyes blinked amongst the darkness, looking almost quizzical. The demon tilted its head, reached out a hand, and gripped Hajime's left arm. Its fingers were brittle, as if it were avoiding putting on too much pressure.   
Then-   
-a gunshot rang out from behind them and hit the demon inches away from Hajime's face. He jumped. The demon's grip became vice-like, and its eyes blew wide, showing whites. Cracks of light appeared in the shadow, and the demon collapsed in on itself.   
There was no body, but Hajime knew it was dead.  
"Are you okay?" Came a breathless voice.  
Hajime stared at the place where the demon had been. It'd seemed contemplative, not violent. He turned to look as the stranger ran up to him. A head shorter than him, and with wild, flaming red hair, he was, for all intents and purposes, a child.   
"Do you always shoot demons on sight?" Hajime asked.   
The kid looked up at him, "well, yeah. We're demon hunters - ah, guild members, whatever."   
Hajime rubbed uncomfortably at his wrist where the demon had grabbed him.   
"I needed to talk to you." Hajime said.   
"So you led me on a wild goose chase?" The kid asked, looking a little indignant.   
"I needed to lure you out," Hajime said. He put the demon to the back of his mind as best he could. They'd been taking up too much of his head space lately anyway. "I have a question."   
"Eh?"   
"About the... The linking of Oikawa and I."   
"Ask the demon." The kid said.   
Hajime did not like the way he referred to Oikawa, lumping him in with everything else. Or perhaps it was the way he spoke about demons which was beginning to irk him.   
"I can’t." He said.   
"Why?"   
"I need to-"  
"-Hinata, you idiot!"   
The red-head jerked around, gun held steady in front of him. Hajime followed his gaze. Marching towards them was Kageyama, his eyes fixed solely on Hinata.   
So this was the 'shrimp' Oikawa had mentioned back in the alley. From Kageyama's vehement defence of him when they’d first met, Hajime had assumed the two were friends, or more, but a look of 'shit, I fucked up' overtook Hinata's face at Kageyama's tone, and Kageyama's tone, well, it wasn't exactly friendly.   
"It's for life and death situations! That demon was deadly!" Hinata protested.  
"You're perfectly capable of using other methods." Kageyama reached Hinata, and jabbed a finger into his chest, "you just wanted to use it."   
"I-"   
"And don't-" Kageyama interrupted, turning to Hajime, "-bother asking him about the link, he passed his general knowledge exam by one point."   
"Oy! You only got three more!"   
Hajime was beginning to wonder who had seen fit to let the two work together. They bickered like children - or an old married couple. Even Kageyama no longer looked intimidating, but asking the two of them such a question...  
"Take me to someone who can better inform me then." Hajime said, crossing his arms.   
Kageyama hesitated.  
"Just take me to Sugawara or something. It won't take long."   
"Suga’s really busy." Hinata cut in, "and we're not allowed to show you our headquarters."   
"It won't take long." Hajime pressed.   
"Follow me." Kageyama said.   
"How come you get to make the calls? He's my charge!" Hinata trailed behind them, muttering about he couldn't believe Kageyama was tracking his weapons.   
Even in the dark Hajime could catch sight of a dull flush rising up Kageyama's neck.   
Sugawara was waiting for them on some non-descript street, an eyebrow quirked upwards curiously.   
"What was it you wanted to know?" He asked. Hajime hesitated. "Shoyo, Kageyama, you handled this messily. Daichi will talk to you inside." Sugawara said, waving them off. "They're capable in combat," Sugawara assured him as they disappeared inside, "but still learning in most respects."  
Hajime nodded.   
"Your question?"   
Licking his suddenly dry lips, Hajime asked: "what are the... Side effects of the link?"   
Sugawara tilted his head curiously. "Experiencing some, huh?" He sat down on one of the benches alongside the footpath. "Oikawa didn't tie your souls together, he essentially mixed them-" he said Hajime's face and added quickly, "no, perhaps that isn't the best metaphor. It can be undone, but when souls are linked in such a way, one cannot live without the other."   
Hajime's dismay did not abate - it was beginning to sound like Sugawara was describing the plot of some shitty soul-mates trope.  
"We share dreams." He said quietly, "or at least, I share his. And I-" he swallowed, "I love him, I think. Or like him far too much."   
"Now that is troublesome," Sugawara said, his eyes sparkling with interest. "One of those things is a side effect, the other, I'm afraid, is all you."   
Hajime didn't need to ask which was which.   
"Do you know," Sugawara asked, resting his chin on his hands, "what Oikawa is looking for?" Hajime opened his mouth to reply but Sugawara shushed him, "it was a rhetorical question, dear. There is only one thing Oikawa could make with the ingredients he has, and it's a spell very few know about."   
"Then you've been watching him too?" Hajime asked, head still reeling with Sugawara's last revelation.   
"It's part of the contract, more or less." Sugawara said, "this complicates things, for us at least. The spell will grant someone like him immense power, but we'd assumed one ingredient was unobtainable."   
Hajime stayed quiet. Sugawara stared sadly at the pavement.   
"To bind a spell of that magnitude you need energy, the kind you get from human emotions. Oikawa won't be aware of this, yet, but he needs love, Hajime." Sugawara fixed his eyes on Hajime. His level gaze was surprisingly jarring.  
"Sounds like a bad fairy-tale."   
"The old kind." Sugawara said, "the kind without a happy ending." His warning was gentle but impossible to miss.  
Hajime frowned to himself. His confession still seemed to hang limply in the air. He wasn’t sure if he’d expected a happy ending for Oikawa or not, only that now he wanted one more than anything.  
"Ah but," Sugawara stood, dissolving the tense silence, "I suppose I'm being melodramatic. We kill demons for a living, but I've never quite shared the view that they are inherently bad. Our goal has become skewed after so much violence. Come, I'd better walk you home. I need to get back before Sawamura - er, Daichi - has the two running laps around the city."  
Hajime followed him in silence. It'd been easier before to pretend the feelings inside him were unnatural, but now instead of fighting some external force he was fighting himself. Sugawara gave him a phone number and left him standing outside his flat, dreading going in.   
He knew two things for sure; the first was that he liked Oikawa more than he'd ever liked anyone after knowing him from only a month, and the second; Oikawa could never, ever know this.   
-  
Hajime was no fool. Oikawa would figure it out eventually, no matter how he cut his lingering glances short or insulted him. With a detached resignation, Hajime knew Oikawa would continue to chase his goal no matter what.  
For now, though, he was blissfully ignorant of the effect he had on Hajime.   
How hard could keeping his feelings in check possibly be?  
That sentiment lasted all of five minutes.   
Hajime walked through the door, flicked on the lights, and felt arms wind around his waist from behind. He knew instantly it was Oikawa; he'd brought some new body wash the other day and already the scent was uniquely his.   
It was a peculiar kind of embrace; Oikawa's hands rested low on Hajime's waist despite the fact he was taller. He'd buried his face in the crook of Hajime's shoulder.  
Hajime could feel Oikawa's warm breath on the back on his neck. The butterfly kisses of his lashes.  
He should have pushed him away, of course. He should have made some light, sarcastic comment and that should have been the end of it.   
Hell, Oikawa should have made that comment.   
Yet his ability to function seemed to have left him. It hit him at once, with the same weight as Oikawa's arms draped around his waist, just how much he liked him, and just how much he hated the thought of him leaving.   
"You smell like demon." Oikawa said into his neck. Hajime jumped. He’d sunken too far into Oikawa’s embrace.   
Oikawa's hand wound around his wrist and he spun him so they were standing face to face. Slowly, he lifted Hajime's left hand to his face. Brought it to his mouth, like a kiss.   
Except then he let go and stepped back.   
"I knew it," he said. "It's very faint. Where were you?"   
Hajime took a step back as well, fighting the urge to press his hand over his heart like some eighteenth-century woman being wooed by her lover. This was pathetic.   
"I was at the graveyard. There was a demon. Some demon hunter killed it." He said, his voice a little hoarse.   
"Jesus, do you have a death wish?" Oikawa asked.  
Hajime stood facing him, eyeing Oikawa’s hand which was still extended between them. It had to be the light, Hajime figured as he went into the kitchen, because Oikawa looked to be blushing as well.  
When they’d recovered somewhat (i.e. Hajime had scoured the memory of Oikawa’s touch from all five of his senses), Oikawa pulled a phone out from his pocket excitedly. It was a pink flip phone, which he seemed to like unironically.   
"That's a piece of junk." Hajime told him.   
"Mean Iwa-chan, gimme your number." Oikawa said, waving it at him from his spot on the sofa.  
As he handed Hajime his phone, their fingers brushed briefly. Hajime tried not to dwell on it.   
"This thing is ancient." He said, trying to navigate it.  
"Well where was I meant to get the money from?" Oikawa asked, a tiny bit cattily.   
“A job?”   
“You want to reduce someone like me-” Oikawa struck a pose and winked- “to customer service? I would wilt.”   
"I don't know, where did you get the stuff you have?"   
Oikawa snickered, "willing strangers."   
"Somehow I doubt that."  
"Fine, unwilling strangers, who had more than they needed. Surely you wouldn’t give strangers priority over me, Iwa-chan?”   
“Do you really need me answer that? And wasn’t it against the contract you signed? No breaking human laws?”  
Oikawa paused and considered this, and then swore quietly under his breath. Hajime laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hajfjrd Hajime has it badddd  
> (Is this rushed? I feel like its rushed, but scene transitions kill me, enjoy)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I started writing this whole story from Iwaizumi's perspective without even thinking then then realized halfway through that maybe Oikawa's would make more sense? And I was totally planning to keep it Iwaizumi the whole time to make Oikawa's feelings *mysterious* but like, we all know exactly how he feels, and I was stuck on this chapter for like a day and I Did Not want to lose momentum so basically, I panicked, now we have Oikawa being sad too.   
> (Uh, this particular chapter contains adult content, im going to hell, byeee)

When Oikawa found himself bleeding profusely in an alleyway, being chased by half the demons from hell that month ago, he figured he had two options; fight (possibly to the death) or turn up at the guild and grovel. They would kill him because of his demon blood, probably, or for it, if they still had   
The latter option wasn't exactly appealing. The guild had shown nobody any kindness. Even their vow to protect humans was more an excuse to slaughter his kind, or it had been for as long as Oikawa could remember.   
Truly, the demons that weren't currently baying for his blood were decent beings, though there were, of course, a large number of demons baying for his blood.   
He'd been ready for his death that night, it was the only path he'd ever really seen in front of him.   
And then appeared a third option, in the form of Iwaizumi Hajime.   
He'd thought for sure at first that Iwaizumi was some kind of other-worldly being. He was too rough around the edges to be an angel, he didn't smell like a demon either, yet he had approached Oikawa, shining that god-awful light in his eyes, and asked in all seriousness if he was alright.  
As if.   
And perhaps it'd been panic which prompted Oikawa to bind them. He knew the consequences of such an action. They would share far more than either of them ever wanted to. They would have to be in close quarters almost constantly. It took him precisely seven minutes to realize the problem with that; Iwaizumi might not like him too much.  
Or at all, in fact.  
Neither the demon hunters nor the demons brought out Oikawa's 'good' side. And even though it was amusing to watch as he riled Iwaizumi up, part of him longed to be softer, more genuine.   
Yet despite Oikawa's constant jibes and uncaring exterior, Iwaizumi was unfalteringly kind to him. It was subtle, but easy to get used to, somehow.   
Oikawa was used to people whose deeds contradicted their words; he'd seen too many times kind words undermined by cruel actions. He'd never seen someone who exhibited kindness quite like Iwaizumi - yet suddenly he had a hand to hold.   
It was far too easy to get used to. He found himself longing for Iwaizumi in his arms, even as he oh-so-casually embraced him. At nights, he found himself thinking when he awoke from the bottomless pit of fear his mind had become, that it was okay. That Iwaizumi was there.   
-  
When Iwaizumi returned home smelling like demon, Oikawa was worried. He should have felt something, through their bond, if Iwaizumi was in mortal danger.  
He was fine, Oikawa assured himself, telling himself that was why he'd hugged him from behind. That was why he'd buried his face in Iwaizumi's neck. To check, like he couldn’t scent Iwaizumi from a room away.  
That night, Oikawa dreamed of him. When he'd first seen him, in his mind’s eye, amongst a swirl of disorienting colours, all he could think was 'oh no'. By the end of the night it would be Iwaizumi's blood on his hands. Iwaizumi he saw dying and in pain. That, he realized, would hurt him on a whole other level.   
Except when he did touch Iwaizumi, he kissed him instead.  
It was like he’d been pulled towards him, like some, guardian deity was nudging him from behind. He took several, hurried, steps, and his arms, almost of their own accord, looped loosely around Iwaizumi’s broad shoulders.   
In the dream he did not hesitate, only leaned forwards and pressed his mouth to Iwaizumi’s, as if it belonged there. He closed his eyes, expected to find carnage when he opened them, but saw only Iwaizumi.   
He’d closed his eyes too, his hands had come to rest on Oikawa's waist, not gingerly, like they would in real life, but a firm pressure, fingers almost digging into his skin underneath his shirt. Oikawa supposed he wouldn't kiss him back in real life either.   
His mind deserted him after that; all he could think about was Iwaizumi’s lips on his, the slight roughness of his skin under Oikawa’s fingers as he brought a hand up to tilt Iwaizumi’s face closer.  
His hands bunched in his shirt and his lips parted as he let Iwaizumi's tongue into his mouth. He felt his fingers digging into his shoulders blades as they pressed closer, lost in the slick pressure of Iwaizumi's lips, of the scent of his skin, overpowering him, clouding his judgment.   
With some effort, he released Iwaizumi's shirt, only to slide his fingers underneath, feeling his warm, smooth skin beneath them. He wanted him, all at once. It was like some weight pressed down on his inhibitions. Oikawa moaned aloud and the sound, it seemed to awaken something within Iwaizumi.   
They were in some alleyway. Suddenly Oikawa could feel the cold concrete against his back. He mourned the loss of Iwaizumi's hands there, but at his front he could feel the plains of Iwaizumi's chest against his. Iwaizumi pressed his knee up between Oikawa's legs, so there was no way to avoid the pressure of his thigh against Oikawa’s cock.  
His fingers, of their own accord, played with the waistband of Iwaizumi's pants.   
It didn't feel like a dream anymore. God, he wished it weren’t.  
Oikawa's hips twitched. A finger dipped below Iwaizumi's waistband and his breath, hot against Oikawa's lips, stuttered.   
He wanted to wrap his legs around Iwaizumi’s waist, wanted more of that delicious friction. He slipped his finger under the waistband of Iwaizumi’s boxers as well, then another, twisting to feel Iwaizumi’s shaft in his hands. Even at the awkward angle he could feel it’s thickness, precum already dripping from its tip, enough for him to pump it a few times without friction.   
Iwaizumi’s groan rumbled through them. The kiss got messier, teeth on the tender skin of Oikawa’s lips. He squeezed and felt Iwaizumi’s cock throb in protest.   
Iwaizumi dipped his head, sucking in some of the skin below Oikawa’s jaw into his mouth, muffling a growl that came from deep within his chest. He kept up the pressure for several moments, his tongue warm on Oikawa’s sweaty skin.   
There would be a hickey tomorrow, he thought, in broken, fragmented thoughts.   
He didn't know how they'd gotten there or what was happening but all he could think of was Iwaizumi. He ground himself against his thigh, grateful for the thick muscle there, from hours of volleyball practice where he’d also be hot and sweaty and – fuck – Iwaizumi kissed him again, the grip on his waist had become bruising tight and Oikawa imagined them on his hips the next morning.  
Fuck.   
Everything was warm and hot and he wanted Iwaizumi's clothes off now, but he was so close. There was no room to move against Iwaizumi’s chest, apart from the small, jerky motions of his hips against Iwaizumi’s legs.   
His fingers twisted together. Iwaizumi's shirt rode up. Oikawa broke the kiss, panting, and then lowered his head to Iwaizumi's neck, trying to stifle the sounds which escaped from him. He couldn’t help but return the favour, of sucking the tender skin there into his mouth, feeling a vein throb against his tongue.   
Involuntarily, his teeth sunk into his neck. Iwaizumi hissed at the sting of pain, his hips twisting. One of the arms which had caged Oikawa against the wall came down to grip his chin, a little roughly. He jerked Oikawa's head back up and kissed him again.   
Teeth nipped clumsily at his lower lip and he gasped at the threads of pain and pleasure it shot through him.  
Iwaizumi’s leg came down and Oikawa gaped at the loss of pressure, but then they were closer than ever, close enough for him to feel the bulge in Iwaizumi’s trousers. He found a new angle, and god, it felt so good-  
“Iwa-chan,” he panted, because he was so close his whole body was shaking and the sound of his voice awoke something in Iwaizumi, because his hands crept around behind Oikawa and his fingers gripped his ass hard. Oikawa smelt the faint tang of blood; Iwaizumi’s knuckles must have scraped the concrete, and even that was so intoxicatingly Iwaizumi.  
He let himself be swept away, drowning in the scent of Iwaizumi, of the sound of his breath his saliva, which Oikawa could feel on his chin because they were such a goddamn mess but it didn’t matter -   
-Iwaizumi pulled him closer and Oikawa jolted at the increased pressure. It was all he needed to tip over the edge, untouched.  
He jerked awake, his underwear hot and sticky. For a moment he lay there, trying to regain his bearings, disorientated and still coming down of the high from an orgasm that definitely hadn’t been a dream. He released a long breath of air, the rest of it definitely had been. Faintly, he could feel that patch of his neck throbbing, the ghost of Iwaizumi’s mouth still there.  
Iwaizumi was still asleep, and Oikawa thanked a god he'd never even believed in.   
He lay for a moment longer, pressed a finger to his lips. They felt a little swollen, like he'd been chewing them in his sleep. Iwaizumi's breathing stuttered and Oikawa jerked his eyes back over, but his roommate was still dead to the world.  
He'd rather share nightmares with him, not whatever that had been.   
(He knew exactly what it had been)   
(He wanted more than anything to ignore it)  
Iwaizumi's hand fell over the edge of the bed, his fingers loose and relaxed. Oikawa wondered if it would be wrong to reach out and hold it - not for comfort, but because he wanted to.   
With a muffled groan, he sat up instead. He needed to clean up and get out of the flat, where the air was suffocating and smelt like Iwa-chan.   
Twenty minutes later, Oikawa was shrugging on his jacket in the living room. He would teleport there while out of view of the demon hunters.   
As usual, the symbols he painted in the ground burned through him. His fingertips tingled in anticipation and his hands shook as he whispered the words.   
The flood of power was immediate and intoxicating. Oikawa let it envelop him. He shut his eyes as the ground vanished beneath his feet and, a second later, he was standing in a coat room of sorts. On the floor around him were matching runes and he stepped out of the circle. He could still feel the aftermath of the magic flowing through him, tingling pleasantly in his bloodstream. Addicting.   
The tavern.   
Oikawa didn’t know where the name was from. On the front was pasted a faded sign advertising dry-cleaning. It wasn’t a bar and it certainly wasn’t a dry cleaners, but it was a place for beings like him to gather in safety. Over the years it had become a strange mix of coffee shop, bar and black market.  
Through the walls came many different voices, part of many conversations. Although they were muffled, Oikawa could pick out several familiar voices. It only took him a moment to focus his hearing on them. Kuroo was there, so were Nishinoya and Tanaka. It seemed Nishinoya had even managed to drag Asahi along; Oikawa could hear his soft, simpering voice.   
Someone opened the door - it was Kuroo. He'd no doubt felt the magic of the runes being activated; he could sniff out magic like sharks could blood.  
"Oikawa," he grinned, fittingly shark-like, "it's been a while."   
"I've been busy," Oikawa said lightly. He offered the other no details as he walked past him into the bar. It was frequented with all manner of other-worldly beings; fallen, fae, succubus, greater demons, even a few lesser ones, lurking in the shadows. They were all the same to the hunters, of course. Even the nymphs, who wanted nothing but to stay in their forests. They murdered trespassers occasionally, but only when they littered.  
Years of plastic pollution did that to someone.   
Oikawa approached the bar and ordered a drink. It was a few minutes past midnight, but the room was as crowded as ever.   
Someone approached him from behind. He recognized her from her scent alone, and she'd probably spotted him the moment he walked in.   
"Back from your latest shenanigan, huh?" She said, sliding into the seat beside him.  
"Not for long," Oikawa muttered under his breath.   
She slid his drink over to herself, took a sip. Oikawa no longer watched her lips as they touched the rim of the glass. She, Rin, hummed in agreement once she'd swallowed.   
"You've missed a lot," she said.   
"I'm sure I have." Oikawa said carefully. He'd find out what he could from someone else later. She was just looking for something to hold over his head.   
"Ah well, all will be solved once you have your magical spell." She raised a dark eyebrow, her plush lips parting in a grin just wide enough to reveal her fangs.   
"You seem a little bitter still." Oikawa said, taking his drink back. God knows he needed it. "Catty, almost."   
"Mm, I wonder why."   
“So do I.” Oikawa said, gulping down the concoction, “I violated none of our terms.”   
“We all know that you-“ She tapped his forehead- “don’t actually think in logic and contracts.”  
“Perhaps that’s why I burned yours.” Oikawa said.   
Rin leaned closer, finger still resting on his forehead. She inhaled deeply, carefully, and her eyes scanned his face.   
“You’ve been busy,” she said then, her mouth quirking upwards in a jealous smile.   
They both knew exactly what she meant, and Oikawa fought the flush which rose up his face as he thought back to that dream. That goddam dream.   
Odd really, that he hadn’t thought of her at all well with Iwaizumi. There hadn’t been room for her in his mind.  
Her jealousy disappeared and she tilted her head to one side curiously.   
“Oh, I haven’t been replaced.”   
“There was nothing to replace,” Oikawa said, his voice deepening almost into a snarl.   
Rin pulled back and seated herself on the bar stool beside him once more. Her nail left a crescent moon-shaped groove on his forehead.  
“You haven’t found another fuck-buddy.” She corrected venomously – but then, everything she said was venomous, “you actually like them.”   
Oikawa opened his mouth to deny it – quickly, before she could unpick him any further, before he put Iwaizumi in danger, but she stood and made her way back to the back of the room. She gave him no indication to follow. Once he might've anyway. She was an incubus; she could make him feel things no one else could.   
Or that's what he'd thought.   
"You've made her mad." Said some else, stealing her seat.  
"I came to drink my sorrows away." Oikawa said impatiently, shooing them away. It was Kuroo, of course. He could sniff out trouble as easily as he could magic – and Oikawa was nothing if not in trouble.   
"No you didn't." Kuroo said, "Kenma researched the last ingredient. He says 'energy' refers to some kind of emotion, not your own, but felt towards you."   
Oikawa ran his fingers through his hair, still damp from his brief shower.   
"Why couldn't it be something easy, like crocodile tears or armadillo scales?" He asked dolefully.   
Kuroo slapped his back, "you'd better hope you don't need someone to like you." He said lightly. Cruelly as well, considering Oikawa's current predicament, but Kuroo was always a little harsh.   
"The cost?" He asked reluctantly. He hadn’t realized that particular part of the spell would be a metaphor, but the whole thing was written in riddles and half-lies.   
Kuroo swirled his own drink, ice clinking merrily, “what have you got?” He asked.   
"I happen to have a deal with the guild," Oikawa said. "You need a profile on the new members."   
Kuroo considered this, "you'd better have something useful."  
"What else?" Oikawa leaned close conspiratorially, "I have a full name."  
Kuroo was one of the most important members of the community for a reason: he was thorough. Oikawa couldn't escape his investigation, didn't want to, he supposed. Kuroo would only give the information to those who needed it, for a high price. It’d probably be used for protection, as he had used it.  
The only secret he held close to his chest was that of Iwaizumi. It wasn't strictly necessary, he reasoned, for Kuroo to know anything about him, not even his full name. He didn’t want to put him in harms way.  
When finally he'd been wrung dry of information, he was left alone, staring into the rich amber of his drink. He might as well drink it, he supposed. It was probably Tanaka which brought him second. They'd never liked each other. Oikawa was too polished. Tanaka was crass and wild in an altogether different way; they couldn't avoid getting on each other’s nerves.   
"You look sad, though." Tanaka told him.   
He wasn't wrong.  
-  
It took Oikawa two tries to get to the sea caves of Namibia. It was hot, and midday. Even so, there was no one around for miles, and a dry wind whipped sand into Oikawa's legs. He stumbled a little as he uncovered the entrance, and slipped inside. The sun was cut off abruptly and he blinked as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. His muscles were heavy and sluggish.   
He'd drunk slightly more than he’d intended to.  
He could make out the cave stretching ahead of him. Under his fingers the sandstone walls crumbled as he followed it. The distant echo of the sea rang around him.   
Was it the black quartz crystals he'd come for? Or the desert diamonds?   
He'd gotten the spell of a fallen; a demon who'd once reigned from heaven, or whatever it actually was. He was as old as time, and every word on that spell was vague and highly subjective. By now Kuroo probably knew exactly what he was making. It wouldn't take him long to figure out why.   
The grainy sand crunched under Oikawa's feet as he made his way deeper underground. He'd know what he was looking for when he saw it, for sure. His brow wrinkled briefly with worry as he tried to remember what was guarding the cave, but he'd gotten this far, and the world was muted and inconsequential.  
He just wanted it to be over. To have the runes drawn onto the ground and to be chanting the words which were engrained in his memory. The power would burn through his arteries, pulse under his skin as if trying to break free. It would burn worse than anything, and he'd been burned before.   
It would be worth it.   
He imagined the numbness now, from whatever was in those drinks (fire whiskey, he suspected). Feeling nothing, day after day. Right now, he wore indifference like a shield, but to have it in him to his core, the only thing he felt, would be blissful. Everything would be bearable.   
It was black quartz in the cave, the back wall was coated in it. He'd find the desert diamond somewhere swelteringly hot and probably ridiculously well-guarded.   
He hesitated before touching it, but there was nothing nearby. The cave was completely lifeless, even to his dulled senses.   
He touched the smooth surface, frigid compared to the surroundings. The gem didn't budge. He should have brought something to dig it out with, but he had only his hands, nails which he’d bitten after a lifetime of nightmares, no matter how he'd tried to stop. Uncaring, he dug them into the hairline gaps around the quartz.  
By the time he'd pulled it free his nails were broken and bleeding.   
Unfeeling, he scratched the runes on the ground. The salt in the soil made his fingers sting as he brought himself back out of the cave, back to Iwaizumi. He landed in an alleyway nearby – his aim had been off - and made his way back to the apartment. It was dark again, though morning was on the horizon. The sharp bite of bile bubbled at the back of his throat and he swallowed it down. The corners of the black quartz carved marks into his hands, not quite deep enough to cut.   
In his mind’s eye tan fingers soothed those marks.   
Iwaizumi was in the kitchen cooking something when he returned. Volleyball practice must've been cancelled; Oikawa had expected (hoped, almost) to return home to an empty house.   
When Iwaizumi turned to look at Oikawa, who'd shut the door loud enough to alert him of his presence, he looked tired. Oikawa felt a flash of guilt, before remembering that this night was a rare one where he hadn't woken Iwaizumi up at all.   
"You reek of alcohol." Iwaizumi stated.   
Oikawa shrugged; the bitter scent had faded from his own nostrils a long time ago.   
There was a box, sealed with magic, at the head of his bed. He had to put the quartz in that. Except he was seized with the desire to discover what Iwaizumi was cooking, so he set it on the table and inspected the pan. A spit of oil landed on his cheek and he flinched. Eggs.   
Iwaizumi placed his hands on his shoulders and moved him aside. His touch was the same as it always was; business-like.   
"Iwa-chan." He complained, brushing it away. Whatever Tanaka had brought was stronger than he’d thought, and he stumbled a little.  
"I don't think you should be around hot stuff right now." Iwaizumi said, just a hint of amusement in his voice.   
Strange, everything else was so dull.   
"I'd better leave you alone then," Oikawa said. Not quite as quickly as he would have liked, but Iwaizumi turned and busied himself with flipping the egg. The tips of his ears flushed, and Oikawa grinned a little. He took up a perch on one of the kitchen chairs, drinking the scene in. The room was colder than the desert by several degrees, and comfortable. It was beginning to smell like breakfast and the sounds of eggs crackling in the fry pan was relaxing.   
When Iwaizumi finally turned around, Oikawa's eyes were trained on him, half closed. They shot open though, when Iwaizumi walked towards him, grabbing something from the shelf as he went.   
"Your hands," he said.   
Oikawa looked over his scraped knuckles and chipped fingernails. The pointer finger on his left hand was missing a nail almost entirely, and dried blood caked his cuticles. A dull ache begun to spread through them.   
“Wash them.”   
Oikawa listened unthinkingly. The water which ran off them was dirty, stained greyish-pink with blood and sand. He patted them dry gingerly and stood there dully for a moment, before he realised Iwaizumi's outstretched hands were there for him.   
There was the rustle of packaging as Iwaizumi wriggled the cotton balls out from their place in the box. Finally he twisted the top off the disinfectant and dabbed gently at Oikawa's nails. One handed the process was slow, but never thought to do it himself. Iwaizumi’s hands were too warm, too comfortable. He’d thought of this, back in the cave, craved the gentleness as much as he’d craved the roughness in his dream earlier that night.   
Blearily he examined the shape of his hand cradled in Iwaizumi's.  
"What were you doing?" Iwaizumi asked.   
Oikawa frowned and swung his legs as he tried to remember. There had been something, something which he'd been running from as far and fast as he could.   
Iwaizumi?   
But that didn't make sense. This place here was the most comfortable place he'd ever been. Iwaizumi switched hands and begun cleaning his left. Oikawa's fingers twitched as he remembered pressing that hand into Iwaizumi's shoulder, desperately burning himself into his skin.   
"It's different," he murmured.   
"Hmm?" Iwaizumi placed the cotton ball down.   
"You're hands are... Soft... Now." Oikawa said.   
Soft wasn't the right word, but he could only remember when Iwaizumi had first bandaged him up, his movements rough, pulling the bandage a little tight. And when they held hands in the night, clutching each other for dear life. No, soft wasn't the right word, but the way he was holding Oikawa's hand now was different.   
"I didn't like you, before." Iwaizumi said. That was soft. His voice dropped, almost as if he were speaking to himself.   
He didn't-?   
But that meant now-?  
Oikawa felt his eyelids droop. That fire whiskey had been too strong; perhaps some well-meaning stranger had seen the bags under his eyes. He'd been fighting it for so long...  
-  
When he woke up the apartment was perfectly quiet, only the dull rumble of traffic outside. Oikawa had fallen asleep on the sofa. The medicine box was on the table, packed neatly. He stretched his fingers and winced as the dry skin cracked. His head pounded at every movement; forget disinfectant, he needed aspirin now.   
Iwaizumi floated in his minds-eye, but the image was hazy. God, he hoped he hadn't said anything stupid. He made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water. A plate or so was stacked neatly in the sink, but one was still on the bench, covered from flies.   
Curiously, Oikawa lifted the cover to find another fried egg on toast resting on it. It was cold now, but somehow it tasted delicious.   
-  
He didn't sleep at nights anymore. How could he, when his unconscious mind led him to nightmares and sex scenes all of which he feared Iwaizumi could see? It'd been nice for a time, waking with someone to comfort him, but that had been a luxury not a necessity. It was worse in some respects seeing his roommate so tired.   
At nights he travelled the world for the rare and wonderful things he would need. Oftentimes he returned home early in the morning before anyone was awake, empty handed and a little banged up. He was used to being battered and bleeding, but it was still a nuisance. Matsukawa would notice.  
And during the day, in the hours where both Matsukawa and Iwaizumi were working or in class, he slept.   
Being nocturnal should have been easy for a creature of darkness, but sometimes he lay for hours waiting to finally fall to sleep.   
A luxury, not a necessity.   
When he did, the nightmares were still there. Of course they were, choking him as he tried to rest, as nonsensical as ever.  
He jolted awake. In front of his face his fingers shook, but they were clean and free of blood. Pressing a hand against his mouth, Oikawa tried to steady his breathing.  
There was the gentle thump of a door shutting and he ripped his hands away. It wasn't Iwaizumi. Hazy from sleep, a veil of panic slipped over him, but after squinting a moment he realized it was Matsukawa who stood there. Another deep breath.   
Oikawa rested his forehead in his clammy hands. He was sticky with sweat, like he'd been running for hours.   
"Are you okay?" Matsukawa asked haltingly.   
Oikawa wondered why, then realized that without his control, his pupils would have narrowed to slits, as they did when he was scared. He shut his eyes and readjusted the muscle.   
"Yeah, fine."   
"I wondered why Iwaizumi was so tired." He vanished from view for a moment, and returned with a glass of water. Oikawa set it on the desk without drinking from it.   
"This isn't a nightly thing." Oikawa croaked.   
"Yeah," Matsukawa looked out the window, "more like daily, I suppose." He crossed his arms, "I see you leaving at night."   
Oikawa blanched, but confirmed after a tense moment that he merely meant stepping through the door.   
"So you aren't a family friend." He said.   
"I'm not." Oikawa agreed blithely.   
"Who are you?"   
"It's a long fucking story." Oikawa said. The dregs of his dream still swirled in his stomach and he was on edge.   
Matsukawa stared at him unashamedly for a long a moment, his eyes wracking up and down Oikawa's body. It was too dim to see details, but he seemed to find what he was looking for.   
"I trust Iwaizumi's judgement," he decided finally, "I don't trust yours. Your intentions though…" Matsukawa met his eyes squarely, "you aren't going to hurt him."   
Oikawa opened his mouth to assure him he wouldn't, when he realized Matsukawa hadn't been asking a question. His roommate left, shutting the bedroom door behind him. Oikawa took a sip from the water he'd brought, cradling the cool glass in his hands.   
This whole thing was turning out to be one hell of a headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If u left kudos or commented I love u, hello <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know we have Oikawa saying ‘what are you, my Mum?”, get ready for the next best thing  
> (There's a mildly 'mature' scene like part way through - Iwaizumi thirsts after Oikawa basically)

When Matsukawa announced he was going to be staying with Hanamaki for a week while his flatmate visited home, Oikawa joked about moving into his room. Matsukawa told him right away that Hajime probably liked him where he was better, and he wasn't wrong as per say, but Hajime didn't want Oikawa to know that.   
He laughed and said something about Oikawa snoring.   
The two of them alone in one space should not have been different at all. Matsukawa was there as often as he wasn't, and they'd already shared a lot.   
The silence in the evenings was odd without Matsukawa to fill in the conversations, but peaceful, nonetheless.   
On day one, Hajime awoke to Oikawa making breakfast. He had practice, and it was early, but he was in the kitchen cooking as if he'd been awake for hours. Perhaps he just hadn’t slept at all; with Oikawa it was impossible to tell.   
A few rays of sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, and steam from the freshly boiled jug wafted around the room.  
"Are we playing house?" Hajime asked, rubbing his eyes.  
Oikawa grinned at him, "I want to be the Dad," he said.   
"Okay dad." Hajime said.   
"Daddy." Oikawa corrected, and it was far too automatic.   
There was a charged moment of silence, before a laugh escaped Hajime. The moment had been kind of ridiculous after all. He glanced up to see Oikawa watching him with wide eyes, before he joined him. Soon they were both doubled over, Oikawa clutching the spatula in one hand, pancakes forgotten on the stove.  
"It's not- people don't actually- you!?" Hajime wheezed.   
Oikawa flicked his forehead, but he was still laughing. "It's different during sex." He finally managed, his serious face twitching.   
And Hajime, nope, was not going to thing of the implications of that. For a moment he played with responding 'prove it', but then he was caught up again in Oikawa's laughter.  
It was less controlled than his usual laugh. Loud and stuttering, like he wasn't used to doing so. It was kind of really beautiful.   
It struck him that perhaps Matsukawa was the mature one of the three of them.   
Moments like those made him think Oikawa was feeling okay. Someone who could laugh like that couldn't be hurting inside. But those moments were rare, and he wore his smile like a mask.  
It would have been impossible for Hajime not to notice that Oikawa came home more often than ever covered in bruises and scrapes and burns. He'd usually healed before morning, but he was still getting hurt somehow. Stupid, careless person.   
Sad person.   
-  
He was waiting up for Oikawa again, just as he'd told himself not to. As if he'd listen to himself. Technically he was in bed and technically he was trying to sleep, but his eyes strayed towards the door, which he'd left open into the living room, and his ears strained for any sound, as if he'd suddenly be able to pick up Oikawa's feather-light movements.   
The jolt of pain took him by surprise.   
He'd been drifting off, finally, walking the border between awake and asleep. It was his ankle. Hajime sat bolt upright, reaching down to clutch at it. It felt fine, but his foot throbbed and he could feel the ghost of something warm and sticky coat his skin; blood.   
He fumbled with the light and managed to turn it on. For a moment he struggled with his sheets, which had tangled themselves around him. Finally he freed his leg - and it was fine. Gingerly he poked at it. Although the pain didn't flare at the touch of his fingers, it was there, undeniably so, just not his.  
The door thudded open and Hajime squinted into the living room. He could see a hunched form in the shadows, and he stumbled out to it, turning on the light as he went. It was Oikawa.   
The burning, stinging, pain faded when he came close, but his eyes drifted downwards until they settled on Oikawa's leg. His trousers had been torn to the knee, a gash opened the skin. It was impossible to see where it began and ended; what with the blood which ran down it freely.   
If Hajime had been squeamish, he would have retched. He still felt sick to his stomach, and seeing Oikawa in that state did nothing to help.   
"You couldn't get out that first aid kit could you?" Oikawa asked lightly.   
Hajime wanted to strangle him. Physically, they were already sharing pain, would it be so bad to figuratively do the same thing? He remembered the pain in his own leg, the ghost of Oikawa's, and wondered how he could appear so calm.   
"It won't have anything in it for that." He said.   
Oikawa produced a packet from somewhere. Inside was a curved needle and thin thread.   
"We need disinfectant." He made a face, "damn plants."   
"Plants?"   
"I needed venom from the heart of a man-eating plant." He said. He placed a small bottle on the countertop beside him. It was filled with an unremarkable brown substance.   
"A venomous plant?" Hajime repeated, opening the medicine box.   
"Mhmm." Oikawa's voice was a little strained.   
"With venom? Which is now inside your leg."   
"Ah." There was a long pause, "well I did say man-eating. I'm a demon, I’m sure I’ll be fine."   
There was a tired kind of bitterness in Oikawa's voice as he said this.   
"Sit down." Hajime said. He supposed there was nothing for it but to clean the wound.   
Oikawa picked one of the cheap plastic chairs they had at the countertop. At least the blood would wipe off. Hajime approached the wound gingerly. Oikawa, for all his over-dramatic tendencies, said nothing as he wiped it off. It was smaller than he'd first thought, but deep and the edges were jagged.   
"Clean off the needle with disinfectant as well." Oikawa said. He handed Hajime the package, shaking slightly.   
"You want me to stitch you up?" Hajime asked. Oikawa nodded. "We're going to the hospital." He said, making to stand.   
"Oh no we aren't. It's easy, like stitching fabric."   
"I really don't think-"   
"I'm not even bleeding that much. It'll heal just fine, but I really want to avoid a scar."   
"You think I'll be able to fix that?" Hajime gestured at the mangled flesh.  
"It'll be fine." Oikawa said. He leaned in, meeting Hajime's eyes imploringly, "I'll help you."   
It struck Hajime that Oikawa was in no condition to help, but he slipped on the gloves which had been in the package and disinfected the needle.   
“What is it with you and hospitals?” He asked.   
“The doctors are bound to figure something’s wrong with me.”   
“Like what?” Hajime asked, he was stalling.  
Oikawa leaned forwards, grabbed Hajime’s wrist, and pressed it to his chest. “Have a think,” he said.   
Hajime tried to pull away, but Oikawa’s grip was too tight. Eventually, he splayed his fingers over Oikawa’s chest, palm sitting just above the base of Oikawa’s ribcage. He could feel the thudding of Oikawa’s heart against his hand.   
It was a powerful heartbeat, one that was far too fast.   
“They’d think I was seconds away from death.” Oikawa clarified, “and that would lead to investigation and that is never a good thing for people like me.”  
Hajime pulled his hand away with a steady inhale. "We should get painkillers," he said.   
"Aspirin isn't going to help me now." Oikawa said with a wry smile. "Is that antiseptic ninety percent alcohol? Maybe I should drink it."   
"It'd kill you." Hajime said, despite what he’d just learned about Oikawa’s anatomy.   
Oikawa shrugged, "my metabolisms too fast for the normal stuff, you know."   
Hajime raised an eyebrow, though he didn't dare look up as he threaded the needle. "You've come home drunk before."   
"Yeah, not off human drinks. There are Fae - sorry, demons - that really know what they're doing." There was silence as Hajime finally pulled the thread through. He paused, the tip of the needle hovering above Oikawa's skin.   
"You should really pretend to laugh at my jokes," Oikawa said, "that way at least one of us would feel better. Here-" he tapped a point on his leg near the edge of the wound. Hajime bit down on his lip and poked the tip through. He felt a dull flare of pain in his own leg as he did, but Oikawa didn't even wince.   
He'd had much worse, Hajime realized. The thought was enough to make him ache for Oikawa.   
He tied off the first stitch and cut the excess with a tiny pair of scissors.   
"Four more to go." Oikawa said with a tight laugh. He swore under his breath as Hajime made the next stitch, but said nothing more. By the end his leg looked somewhat normal, though the thread pulled at his flesh.   
"You shouldn't have trusted me." Hajime said, feeling sick. He dabbed away the extra blood anyway, though the bleeding had become sluggish. Then he wrapped it in swathes of white bandaging.   
Oikawa leaned back on the chair, his eyes drooping closed.   
"I trust you." He said tiredly. "I trust you with far too much."   
Hajime paused. He'd cleaned the needle and slipped it back into the bag, praying they wouldn't need it again. He was still kneeling at Oikawa's feet; he couldn't glimpse his expression, but the tightness of his jaw hinted at complete and utter exhaustion.   
It would be another few days until Matsukawa was back with them, enough time to mop the blood off the tiled floor. Hajime put the rest of the things away and scrubbed at his hands. Oikawa was still in the chair when he returned. His heart leapt into his throat as he registered just how still he was, arms bent at an awkward angle, but he was only sleeping. Hajime confirmed anyway, pressing his fingers on Oikawa's wrist. Under them, Oikawa's pulse fluttered like a trapped bird, only an echo of the heartbeat he’d felt before.  
It was past midnight. Hajime hesitated, then, as gently as he could, slid one arm under Oikawa's legs and lifted him. Oikawa's head lolled onto his shoulder and he paused there. Hair, far from the intentionally messy bedhead it normally was, brushed his chin. Oikawa was lighter than he looked; nothing but muscle and bone. His shoulder dug uncomfortably into Hajime's chest.   
Gently, he placed Oikawa down on his futon and drew the blankets around him. Oikawa muttered something unintelligible and shifted slightly. His hand groped around. Barely breathing, Hajime placed his own there. Oikawa's fingers wrapped around his wrist.   
Hajime intended to stand and climb the few centimetres onto his own bed, but Oikawa's grip was hard to shake. He stayed, mattress cushioning his back. He grew cold as time wore on, but couldn't bring himself to actually move. It was comfortable.  
For the first time, Oikawa was still there when he woke up.   
-  
They didn't speak of that night, but something shifted. Oikawa limped around the house for a day or so, and Hajime watched the swelling in his leg with concern. He could feel an ache in his own every now and then, he was slower during practice (although that could be put down to the fact he'd only ended up sleeping at three in the morning). Oikawa had gotten concealer from somewhere and hidden the bruising on his face as well.   
How many times, Hajime wondered, had he had to do that?   
(And why did the thought of Oikawa wearing eyeliner make him overly curious?)   
So, life continued as normal, and Hajime could keep caring about little things, or the things which had seemed little when he'd first learned about the other-worldly, like his position on the volleyball team.   
Which was not as secure as he'd hoped. His university was known for its volleyball team, and this year alone, one of the top spikers in Japan had joined.   
For now, he was in the starting line up - and they happened to have a game on Friday.   
-  
There was a face in the stands. Not a familiar one by any means, but an odd one, with flaming red hair and eyes with where on the crimson side of brown. Hajime wasn't sure why he noticed him, because the red-heads eyes watched Ushijima with perfect concentration, though they occasionally followed the ball. There was something decidedly wrong about him.   
Like, for example, the way he approached Ushijima after the games end; completely comfortably. Hajime had only seen people treat the ace with respect or a little fear before, not this light-hearted amusement. Even more curious, Ushijima didn’t quite seem to know what to make of it all. Hajime was drawn to him in some, inexplicable way.  
They made eye-contact, and the red-head left Ushijima and made his way to Hajime. Something in his walk reminded Hajime of a lion stalking its prey.   
"I'm Tendo." He said, "and you can see me."   
"Uh... yeah." Hajime wanted to take a step backwards but found he couldn't move. The stream of people leaving passed around him, one or two looking annoyed at the inconvenience. Tendo tilted his head curiously.   
"Let's go somewhere quiet, why don't we?" He said.   
"Do I have a choice?" Hajime asked.   
"You could call for help but er... you might get a few weird looks." Tendo, who was most certainly a demon, beckoned for Hajime to follow. His fingernails were unnaturally sharp and a little yellowed. It occurred to Hajime that he was invisible to passer-by.   
He didn't lead them far, only off the path a little where they were out of the way.  
"Now," he placed his hands on his hips, "you're just an ordinary human, aren't you."  
Hajime hesitated but Tendo shook his head, "I can tell. You reek of demon but underneath you're just a person. There must be something in common between you, though." He said.   
"Between who?" Hajime asked.   
Tendo shushed him again, "I'm thinking." He said.  
"I have to go." Hajime tried.  
"I can smell lies." Tendo said matter-of-factly. "Most of us can, you know."   
The implications of that statement did not sit well with Hajime, but he nodded along, still unsure of what Tendo wanted from him. He was staring Hajime down, his pupils narrow, like a snakes. Long, scrawny limbs reminded him of Oikawa, except Oikawa had filled out in the past month, so he was lean rather than skinny. Hajime realized with surprise he felt sorry for Tendo, like he would a stray cat.   
Tendo just shrugged and stepped back, "I really can't put my finger on it...” He said with a dramatic wave of his hand. Then he stilled, a grin ghosting across his face – “or can I?" He lunged forwards, fingers closing around Hajime's wrist. With his other hand, he pushed up Hajime's sleeve, revealing the ghostly outline of Oikawa's hand print. It wasn't a scar, exactly, but Tendo seemed to know exactly what it was.  
"Well that makes perfect sense, I suppose." He seemed deep in thought, his bony fingers still pressing hard into Hajime's wrist.   
Then, a hand on Tendo's shoulder.   
Tendo jumped. With his spiked-up hair he looked like a startled cat.   
"Let him go."   
It was Oikawa. His voice contained a thinly veiled threat and his fingers were tight on Tendo's shoulder. Tendo only released Hajime's wrist, smiling amusedly.   
"Look what I've caught." He said, slipping out of Oikawa's grip, leaving Oikawa’s hand to clench on empty air.   
For once, he ignored the jibe. He was looking at Hajime, brows drawn together.   
"You okay?" He asked.   
Hajime realized that Oikawa sounded faintly out of breath like he'd ran there. How had he known?  
"Yeah, I'm fine." Hajime said quickly.   
Tendo was looking between them, still grinning like he'd won the lottery. "Oh, I see." He said, snapping his fingers, "I won't keep you any longer, then."   
He made to disappear, but Oikawa stepped in front of him and cut him off. He was calmer now, but no less menacing.   
"What are your intentions?" He asked.   
Tendo tapped his finger thoughtfully on his chin, "curiosity." He decided. Oikawa took a step forward. "I wanted to know how he could see me too." Tendo amended quickly.   
Oikawa's back was between Hajime and Tendo, but he could still see the mocking, amused, glint in Tendo’s eyes, like the whole exchange was a joke only he was in on.   
"Soul-bound, huh? That's pretty serious. Almost like a marriage." Tendo's grin spread wider, his incisors abnormally sharp. His choice of words had not been coincidental. Oikawa's shoulders tensed and Hajime stepped forwards as if he could possibly stop him from flying at Tendo if he so chose.  
But Oikawa only said coolly, "a marriage of convenience, I suppose."  
"Right, right. I guess things would get... messy, otherwise." Tendo laughed a rattling laugh.   
Hajime placed a hand on Oikawa's shoulder; the annoyance broiling in his stomach was not his own. Tendo, wisely, disappeared before any of them could say another word.   
Oikawa shook of his hand, "damn spirit." He spat. He looked at the spot Tendo had vanished for a moment longer, before turning around. When he did, his expression was the same as it always was.   
"Did he say much to you?" He asked.   
Hajime shook his head. Nothing of significance. "What was he?" He asked.   
"A lost soul... Kinda." Oikawa said with a sigh. "They're invisible to most, they get by stealing things, and creating chaos. Ones like Tendo died a long time ago, on the streets."   
"Oh..." Hajime looked in the direction Tendo had vanished. There was something inexplicably sad about his life, obnoxious as he may be.   
"Don't be sad, Iwa-chan." Oikawa said, "he was talking like someone else out there could see him, he isn't alone anymore." At Hajime's silence, Oikawa added, "that's the best thing a demon can ask for, you know." He met his eyes and smiled slightly, "perhaps we can check in on them later."   
Hajime relaxed in the presence of that smile, more than he'd intended to. "How'd you know I was here?" He asked.   
Oikawa frowned thoughtfully, "I just knew..." He decided, "like I could smell the demon on you, and I thought perhaps you were in trouble. I think I would feel now if you were really in danger, but I didn't want to risk it."  
Hajime hummed in agreement. Unbidden, his mind jumped back to Tendo's words before; how demons could smell lies. He wondered just how much of his mind Oikawa could see.   
"How'd your game go?" Oikawa asked.   
Hajime shrugged, "alright." He said, "we won, although I didn't do a huge amount."   
Logically he knew volleyball was a team sport, but right now the team was built around Ushijima more than anything.   
"I know you're good at volleyball." Oikawa said, crossing his arms, "you have that picture in your yearbook."   
"You've been through my things?" Hajime asked.   
Oikawa looked unashamed, "I was curious, my life is in your hands, after all."   
"And mine in yours." Hajime pointed out.   
There was a long paused, before Oikawa snickered, "that sounds like the line out of a cheesy romantic movie." He said.   
"Wha- no!" He protested, more quickly then he intended.   
Oikawa nudged him with his elbow, "I give to you my life and heart for all eternity."   
Hajime shushed him and mercifully, Oikawa listened. It might have been funnier if he hadn't imagined similar words (albeit less pretentious) said before. Regardless, he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth quirking upwards.   
-  
"Iwa-chan!"   
It was late evening and Oikawa had stepped into the bathroom to take a shower a couple minutes ago.   
Hajime leapt up, hearing the panic in Oikawa's voice - it could only be something bad. The bathroom door was ajar, and Oikawa was perched on the edge of the bathtub staring down.   
"What is it? What's wrong?"  
Oikawa pointed accusingly into the tub and Hajime stepped over to him, heart pounding.   
It was, he told himself, because he expected to see a body or something in there, not because Oikawa was shirtless, with only a towel draped carelessly across his lap. Apprehension and attraction were two very different emotions, but he let himself confuse them in the precious seconds it took to see what Oikawa was staring at...  
A cockroach.   
Hajime was speechless.   
"You called me in here for that?" He said incredulously.   
A demon who'd probably faced death more times than he could count?   
"It's gross, Iwa-chan." He whined. "It has so many legs and it makes that clicking sound and ugh, they always turn up where you least want them to."   
Hajime's finger twitched in annoyance, mere inches from Oikawa's bare thigh. His focus was very much not on the bug. His heart begun to thump in his chest and he hurriedly refocused his attention, because if Oikawa could hear the clicking of the cockroach’s legs then he could definitely hear the change in Hajime's heart rate.  
The cockroach was rather pretty, he thought. Its delicate, gossamer wings flicked slightly as his shadow fell over it and he felt Oikawa shift beside him.   
"Wuss." He said and scooped up the cockroach.   
Oikawa yelped and clung onto Hajime as he cupped the bug. He growled in frustration. Oikawa was, if anything, putting himself closer to the cockroach by clinging like that. He turned to tell Oikawa to man up and let him put the cockroach outside or so help him, he would chase him around the house with it - but the towel on Oikawa's lap fell to the floor with a soft thud. Hajime was left staring at something else entirely.   
He swallowed dryly. He'd seen Oikawa shirtless before - in near death situations or in his room at nights - but this was something else. They were closer. Far, far too close, and yet not close enough. Oikawa's chest fluttered, the hands which trapped Hajime's arm tensed and then relaxed. Gold brown eyes judged his reaction.   
And Hajime's couldn't help but trace with his eyes the rippling muscle under skin broken every so often by scars which stood out red or pale. Oikawa was all lithe, wiry muscle and annoying, unshakable, confidence.   
He was also very very close to Hajime, who happened to have both hands full with a bug he could feel faintly struggling against his palms.   
Was Oikawa strong or was he just too dumbfounded to move?   
Hajime was staring. With a jerk he forced his eyes up to meet Oikawa's instead. Oikawa who was grinning like he hadn't been scared of a freaking bug a couple seconds ago. He stretched his legs out into the tub, flexing muscles that Hajime suddenly wanted tight around his waist. His arm remained resting on his shoulder, his fingers idly tapping out something on Hajime's skin. Even through the fabric they burned.   
"See something you like?" Oikawa asked, that annoying, stupid, half-smile plastered on his face.   
Oh, if only he knew.   
(Oikawa didn't have to be shirtless to make his heart pound)   
(Although this certainly didn't help Hajime's situation)  
He felt a growing bulge in his pants as his eyes dropped unbidden to Oikawa’s cock.  
Hajime wanted to drop the bug and take Oikawa's face in his and just fucking kiss him. He wanted that smirk gone, to be replaced with something - surprise, lust, something softer, he didn’t know. He wanted to run his fingers through Oikawa's hair and feel them pressed together in every place in every way.  
Usually, he wanted something genuine and tender and new.  
Now he imagined the click of teeth against teeth, the scrape of fingers bunching in fabric. A slick tongue inside his mouth. He imagined Oikawa grinding himself against him, coming undone at his touch, his kiss.   
But Oikawa always got what he wanted; if he hadn't made his move already he never would.   
Hajime realized he was clenching the bug a little too tightly. Kissing Oikawa was very much not an option.  
So obviously, he did the next best thing.   
He threw the cockroach at Oikawa (the poor bug, but it was a worthy sacrifice) and got the hell out of there. Oikawa yelped indignantly.   
"Just take your damn shower," Hajime shouted behind him.   
The sound of running water started a minute or so later and Hajime relaxed. He was hot and uncomfortable, for more reasons than one. There was no point even trying to tell himself, as he shut the door to his room and made sure the water running drowned out the sound, that he wasn’t thinking of Oikawa as he wrapped a hand around his dick.   
It was lucky for both of them that Oikawa took longer than usual in that shower.   
Hajime did his best to forget the entire situation after that.   
-  
Matsukawa returned and asked them jokingly if they'd taken advantage of his absence. Oikawa followed along easily on the joke. Hajime felt his ears redden and tried to play along. From the sly grin on Matsukawa's face, he knew it wouldn't be long until his friend got him alone.   
At least, he supposed, he left the interrogation until Oikawa was far, far, out of hearing range, on the university campus.   
"So..." Matsukawa begun, placing down his sandwich, "you gonna elaborate on the little situation we have going on at home?"  
Hajime almost wished he could refuse and be done with it.   
"What do you think's going on?" He asked instead.   
Matsukawa grinned a grin that made him wonder if he'd regret asking. "Well obviously I'm third wheeling. Whether or not you guys realize I'm third wheeling is a little fuzzy," he frowned a little, "you know he can't live with us forever though."   
"Three months." Hajime assured him, though his voice threatened to catch in his throat, "that's all."   
Matsukawa waved him away, though concern glinted in his dark eyes, "I'm not gonna kick him out. He's been through some shit, I can tell. Elaborate on you two." He said.   
He took another bit of his sandwich, as if to signal that Hajime had to talk, and keep talking.   
Hajime tapped his fingers anxiously on the table. Somehow, the words were hard. How did he explain the situation without sounding over-dramatic - or completely insane? "Is this an intervention?" He asked.   
Matsukawa rolled his eyes, "god, I know it's bad when you try and joke." He said through a mouthful.   
"I-" Hajime decided to bite the bullet, "well, I like him a lot." He said.   
Normally, Matsukawa would have said something (probably about that being obvious) but he remained carefully silent.   
"And he doesn't, of course-" Matsukawa chocked on his sandwich- "not like I like him, shut up." Matsukawa nodded, eyes watering. "He's ambitious, he's trying to get a... Job in a company far away from here, so he'll be gone soon."   
"He won't do distance?" Matsukawa asked.   
Hajime ran a hand through his hair. Somehow this whole conversation was draining. He hated trying to conceal the truth from his friend, but he was pretty sure it was the only way to explain the situation.   
"He's kind of... Single minded." Hajime said. Oikawa wanted power, and Hajime couldn't follow where he was going.   
Matsukawa sighed, a little impatiently, "when did you become so cynical?" He asked.   
"When the situation calls for it." Hajime said.   
Matsukawa patted Hajime on the arm and said nothing. He'd been in a similar situation half a year ago, after all, when Hajime had helped him set up a date with Hanamaki. Hajime wondered if he stood outside the situation, knew every detail without feeling any of the messy, tangled, emotions in his gut, the situation would seem better. He wished he could really talk to Matsukawa, they'd been friends for so long. Instead, he let the silence drag on.   
-  
They'd gotten a few full night’s sleep in a row - or Hajime had. Oikawa disappeared before midnight and was back early in the morning, the circles under his eyes growing more and more prominent. It wasn't every night, though. Hajime knew instinctively when Oikawa was actually sleeping, as if some small, niggling worry, relaxed and coiled up in his stomach.  
It was a nice feeling.   
The nightmares came anyway. It was impossible to tell when they would. Sometimes they seemed to exist to ruin an otherwise nice day. Sometimes Hajime could see the haunted look in Oikawa's eyes, and he knew despite his best efforts, he'd wake up gasping for air. It was painful to see him like that.  
Some nights they were trapped inside the nightmares for what felt like months. It was difficult to tell if it was the fear, which he experienced from the both of them, or something else which wore him down those nights.   
He tried to wake himself up when he found them outside his university’s gymnasium. To pry his eyes back open – all because he knew that the longer, they were there, the worse it'd be for Oikawa.   
It was the same day he'd met Tendo, except when he saw him now, Tendo was darker. He held his clawed hands differently, ready to strike, and his eyes were too wide and too bright. His focus was on... Hajime.   
There was another version of him standing a metre or so away,   
The version of him who was standing in the gym. Hajime looked at himself, just a few inches away. Somehow his focus diverted to Tendo, who was advancing on him slowly. For some reason, Hajime tried to reach himself. His legs were heavy and slow and he realized that it was Oikawa's consciousness who was pulling so hard to get to him.   
Fear shot through him, for once a sharp prick to his consciousness, not the subtle, cloying mass it normally was.   
Tendo's bones were pushing through his skin, making rippling ridges just beneath the surface. Each of his movements threatened to tear his skin. He lay a single finger on the Hajime standing in the gym. Only lightly, but his nail was sharp enough to bite into his arm. Hajime winced, though he couldn't feel it. There was something so wrong about seeing himself, just standing there. Tendo's finger dug deeper until blood ran freely down his arm.   
Perhaps it was this sight which jerked him awake.   
He sat up.   
Beside him Oikawa still lay on the futon, twitching in a restless sleep. Hajime rubbed a wary finger on his arm, and found the skin smooth and unblemished. He slipped out of bed beside Oikawa and said his name as quietly as he could manage.   
Of course, Oikawa didn't respond.   
Hajime shook him gently. Oikawa's face was bunched up and he was quivering. He tried again. One of Oikawa's hands snapped up to wrap around his wrist, fingers digging in, and he sat bolt upright. There was a snarl on his face, a defensive one, like a cornered dog.   
Hajime winced but kept still as Oikawa's eyes focused. Whatever had happened in that dream in the few seconds he'd been awake had not been good.  
Oikawa gasped a sigh of relief, his grip still tight enough to bruise. Hajime opened his mouth to tell him that it was okay, he was okay now, but Oikawa lunged forwards clumsily and pulled him into a hug.   
Hajime's words were lost as the arm with wasn't gripping his wrist looped over his shoulder and the fingers dug into his back. Oikawa buried his face in the crook of his neck, his breath warm and tears hot against Hajime’s skin. He returned the hug with his free arm and felt Oikawa lean into him as his breathing stuttered with sobs.  
He pulled himself back under control in less than a minute, before his tears had even dampened Hajime’s shoulder, but he didn’t move.   
It hurt to see him so broken. Still so reluctant to share a little of his burden. Hajime thought of how he must've lived like this for years, perhaps with no safe place to sleep or no one to turn to. How he'd go back to that the moment he had what he wanted, as if safety were a luxury and not a right.  
Finally, Oikawa pulled back.   
"Do you want to talk about it?" Hajime asked hesitatingly, "or something else."  
"I just want to go back to sleep, but that isn't gonna happen." Oikawa croaked.   
"Give it some time." Hajime said. His own heart was beating too fast for sleep.  
There was a long silence. In the darkness Hajime could only see Oikawa's vague outline, his shoulders hunched protectively. His presence filled the space beside him, his breathing still off-kilter.  
"You died." He said finally.   
Hajime only nodded.  
"I killed you." Oikawa said. "I've killed people before," Oikawa added in a rush, "when I was small I lived with my Mum. I wasn't - I didn't mean-" He stopped abruptly, and Hajime pulled him back into a hug. Oikawa was stiff for a moment, as if surprised.   
Hajime felt like he should be running in the opposite direction. If someone else had said those words to him, he would have. His moral compass seemed to be broken. Oikawa, he thought, wasn't cruel, no matter what he said about himself.   
"You should go." Oikawa said finally.  
"Do you want me to?"   
"It doesn't matter." Oikawa said.  
Hajime let him ago. He lingered for a few seconds, before climbing back into his own bed. Despite Oikawa's tumultuous emotions, which Hajime could feel writhing in his stomach, he was silent for so long he thought he'd fallen to sleep.   
"Don't you want to know?" Oikawa asked finally.   
Hajime was filled with a deep desire to know, but caution warned him against it.  
"You don't want to talk about it." Hajime said.   
"What do you know about my thoughts?" Oikawa said, under his breath, then louder, "I want to defend myself, I guess."   
"From me?"   
"From you... But it isn't a happy story."   
"I'd be worried if you thought it was."   
"Perhaps if it'd been my father, I could smile about it." Oikawa said. Hajime knew the smile he meant; the cynical half smile which cleaved his face in two. The one he wore like armour.   
"I want to hear it." He decided.   
"Oh." Another pause. Silently, Oikawa was steeling himself.   
"I didn't... I didn't ever lay a finger on her - my mother." He said, "but a half demon has the kind of magic nobody else does... Useful for all kinds of spells. Mixing mortal and immortal, it's like oil and water, it shouldn't be possible - but in some instances like this it is. So they came after me. The guild protected us at first but a woman who'd slept with a demon - she was as bad as a demon herself, and, well, their protection only reached as far as was convenient." A small bark-like laugh escaped him, and he stopped again.   
"God, I'm making a mess of this." He said, "ask me when I'm drunk, Iwa-chan. I thought I could do it but I just- I liked not thinking about it when I'm with you, I don't, usually, for some reason."   
"Thank you."   
"Huh?"   
"For saying anything at all. It - it wasn't your fault."   
"You don't know everything." Oikawa said.   
"Yeah. No, I don't, fine. You're a decent person and I know this no matter what."   
"I'm not even a person."  
"You might as well be - or demons aren't so bad, some of you, god, I don't know. I think you're good."   
"Oh. Why?" Oikawa asked, dumbfounded.   
"Beats me."   
"You have a game tomorrow, huh?"   
"Yeah."   
"I'll come get you - uh, to keep an eye out for Tendo. And I'll watch too."   
"You're going to cheer me on?"   
"I-" he seemed to regain his normal bravado- "does Iwa-chan want to see me in a cheer-leading outfit?"   
"I think it'd give me nightmares."   
"Mean," Oikawa said.   
Hajime wondered if he went to the trouble of painting on a pout as well.   
-  
Oikawa did not turn up in a cheerleading outfit, and Hajime was not surprised, albeit a little disappointed. He was wearing a ridiculous tropical themed button down, and a pair of sunglasses on his head. Hajime could see the price tag still fluttering on them as he played. He tried not to look over there too much, but when he scored points, he could somehow pick Oikawa's cheering out of the crowd.   
"You look like you went shopping blind." He said when they met outside the stadium.   
"I look good in anything." Oikawa said.  
"Yeah yeah..." Hajime hid a smile at his ridiculous antics.   
“Tendo isn't the only one who can pick pockets,” Oikawa said, tapping his new sunglasses.   
Hajime took a step forwards and thumbed the tag of the sunglasses.   
"You buy these?" He asked.   
"I just happened to come across them. They look better on me than they would some middle-aged woman."  
Hajime turned the price tag around and squinted at the label. There were a lot of zero's there. It was almost enough to distract Hajime from how he’d unwittingly shrunk the space between them with that one step.   
Oikawa's intake of breath was sharp, as he realized how close they were. He smelled like that body wash he'd brought (stolen), and over the past month the smell alone made Hajime think of him. Not that it ever took much.   
He dropped the tag. Neither of them moved.   
"Yeah," Hajime breathed, "you do."   
Then fought the flush which rose up his neck, because that had been a stupid thing to say. Normally he'd defend himself, tell himself that saying something like that would only make Oikawa more big-headed - he'd said it himself a couple seconds ago, after all - but instead he let his words ring out alone.   
Nothing to defend them, to cover them up.   
"Was that a genuine compliment?" Oikawa asked.   
Hajime fought against the urge to clench his fists. He stretched his fingers and then let them relax at his sides.   
"Is that such a surprise?" He mumbled and turned to start walking home. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he was frighteningly close to admitting what he felt, and frighteningly close to wanting too.   
"A little." Oikawa fell easily into step beside him, his eyes flicking carefully over Hajime's face.   
"Why?" He asked.   
Somehow, he'd led them off the path onto the grass area in between them. They stood beneath a cherry blossom tree, one that had bloomed so early the petals were already beginning to fall like snow.  
The outside world was muted; it was just the two of them. Blossom petals drifted down around them, one alighted in Oikawa's hair. For the second time Hajime lifted his hand to touch him.   
He paused halfway and his hand hung awkwardly in mid-air.  
"What?"   
"There's uh... In your hair," he gestured half-heartedly.   
Oikawa plucked out the petal and rolled in between his fingers. Dusting his cheeks was a blush so faint it could have been the reflection of the blossoms on his skin. Hajime let his arm drop, uncomfortably warm. The nervousness in his stomach seemed to double as Oikawa stepped closer, his eyes hooded as they scanned him, slowly, almost calculatingly.   
Hajime should have turned around. Should have begun walking to his flat and pretending the moment had never happened. That it was just an odd, surreal thing.   
Then Oikawa stepped forwards, and he couldn't bring himself to step back.   
He had to tilt his head up, just slightly. If he'd turned to the side slightly the crisis would have been averted, but he didn't. He just let it happen.   
It didn't feel like a crisis.  
For Oikawa kissed him.   
He was so achingly gentle, and it was just the barest brush of lips, unmistakeable. Inescapable.  
Oikawa moved to pull back, but Hajime followed automatically, chasing that feeling. A small breath of air escaped Oikawa's mouth, like a nervous chuckle but softer even than that. He snaked his arms around Hajime's neck and obliged.  
His lips were soft and tasted of chapstick when Hajime opened his mouth just enough to flick his tongue out. His arms, which had been hanging by his sides, came up to hold Oikawa's waist. His breath faintly fanned across Hajime's face and his eyes had fallen closed. For a brief few moments, he let his own fall closed, and just felt that bliss consume him.   
Then he remembered that he would only feel this feeling once. That this moment couldn't last. That he was cutting his time with Oikawa shorter and shorter by feeling this at all.   
Oikawa opened his eyes and regarded Hajime carefully. His gaze became tinged with desperation as the moments passed and Hajime tried to regain control of himself.  
"Would it really be that bad?" Oikawa asked.   
"Huh?" Hajimes mouth went dry. Oikawa stepped back.  
"I though, because I felt it, you would too. I thought-" His voice broke and Hajime fought to say something, to stop him from spiralling down to wherever he was going. "I thought that was you. You're always in my head, Hajime."   
Normally his given name of Oikawa's lips would have been a wonderful, blissful thing. Now it shattered him.   
"It's alright." Oikawa said. The desperation, the vulnerability was erased. "I get it, I'm a demon."   
He let go, turned around. The place where his arms had held Hajime burned.   
"I need a drink." Oikawa muttered, and was gone.   
Hajime sunk down against the tree trunk. The ground was littered with broken flowers and decaying leaved from the year before, but he payed no heed to the moisture which sunk through his clothes.   
He wanted to be alone, without Oikawa's mind, his emotions, always mixing into his. For long time, he stayed there, lacking the energy to move.   
He'd fucked things up either way.   
Either Oikawa knew, and then it would be only a matter of time before he was gone forever.   
Or he didn't know, and he'd somehow overlooked the way he'd kissed him. And he thought that Hajime was repulsed by demons, by him.   
A hand settled on his shoulder. Hajime jumped and squinted upwards. The sky was almost dark. It was Matsukawa, who knelt beside him.   
"What's wrong?" He asked quietly.   
"What isn't." Hajime asked numbly.   
He waited for Matsukawa to tell him he was being over dramatic, but his friend only leaned his head on Hajime's shoulder in silent consolation.   
"You want to talk about it?" He asked finally. "Or do you want to be distracted?"   
"I-" Hajime swallowed the lump in his throat, "I don't know."   
"Let's go home then." Matsukawa said gently, "we can make something to eat and go from there."   
"I can't."   
"Oikawa's gone out." Matsukawa said, reading his thoughts. "You know he won't be back until late. You can sleep in my room if you want."   
"We haven't done that since we were kids." Hajime said.   
"Yeah, well, be thankful Hanamaki doesn't get jealous." There was a long pause. Matsukawa didn't move, as if waiting for Hajime to decide what to do. "That was probably insensitive." Matsukawa said finally, "sorry."   
"S'fine," Hajime said. Maybe he'd just live through Matsukawa from now on. He didn't begrudge his friends happiness. He became aware of his clammy hands, and the warmth of Matsukawa's head on his shoulders. It must've been hours.   
He stood.   
"We could get drunk instead." Matsukawa said. It was late enough that groups of people talking slightly too loudly were walking the streets, and clouds of cigarette smoke dispersed the sky.   
They returned home. Matsukawa made popcorn and they watched Godzilla with the lights off and a mountain of blankets around them. Hajime's cursed mind kept drifting back to that afternoon. If he hadn't already known the movie like the back of his hand, he would have missed the entire plot.  
There was a lot to unpack. Oikawa had kissed him first, after all. Even caught up in the turmoil, that thought made things a little better. Of course, there were a thousand reasons why it made things worse as well. That tiny glow worm of hope which stuttered in Hajime's chest would only make things harder.   
Yes, there was a lot to unpack, but for tonight he would let it go.   
He slept in his own room that night; Oikawa did not return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo much happened, so maybe I should get better at breaking chapters up lol


	5. Chapter 5

He was going to stop looking at Oikawa like a goddammed lost puppy. He was going to stop with the lingering touches and the searching looks.   
Love could be platonic, even when one wanted very badly to shove ones tongue down the other's throat.   
Oikawa, Hajime had decided, was a good friend, despite everything else, and this last month would be one of the best of Hajime's life, if he could only keep the part of him that wanted nothing more than to kiss Oikawa, and the part of him that wanted to protect him separate.   
If he'd been thinking straight (both literally and figuratively), he'd have realized two things. One: a human trying to protect a literal demon was nothing short of stupid, and two, the part of him that wanted to protect Oikawa very much wanted to kiss him as well.  
Ah, the duality of man.   
After the fifth night of no Oikawa, though, Hajime begun to worry. He wasn't dead. Hajime would have felt a momentous, earth-shattering, pain (and death as well, he realized as an afterthought).  
He got a text from Oikawa’s phone, finally, but it wasn’t Oikawa that’d sent it.   
‘hello’, it read, ‘Oikawa seems to have misplaced his phone’. Followed by an address. It was the most obviously suspicious message Hajime had ever received – but he was done classes for the day, and he was near enough it already. He began walking.   
The shop windows were on the dirty side of clean, and the signs blended in almost perfectly with the surrounding street. It was as if the place had been built to avoid attention, and the surrounding people did not so much as glance at it. Hajime hesitated for a long moment, before opening the door. The 'closed' sign swung haphazardly on its ragged twine and a bell dinged faintly.   
Someone appeared beside him, someone with wild black hair and slanting dark eyes.   
"Oho? What do we have here?"  
"I'm looking-" Hajime found his voice too loud in the space. He cleared his throat. "I'm looking for Oikawa."   
"There's one person in the world who might know where he is, and she's not even sure most of the time."   
"Oh."   
"Human, huh? You better not have been followed."   
"I - I don't think so. How did you know?"   
He tapped his temple, "us demons have a very keen sense of smell. You are a friend of Oikawa's, huh?"   
Hajime left his answer a little too long.   
"Ah, a lover?"   
"Why do you think I'm on good terms with him at all?" He growled frustratedly. They were going to be friends whether Hajime liked it or not.   
Kuroo grinned, looking intrigued, "please. If he didn't like you, he'd have tossed you aside like a ragdoll. Few of his enemies survive."   
"I'm his... Friend." He confirmed. Saying it aloud didn’t make it any more real/\\.  
"Not a demon hunter."   
"No." Hajime said quickly.   
"You're too easy to read to be lying, I suppose." Kuroo said. "Follow me."   
He led them to the back of the shop and traced a symbol on a door there. It swung open and Hajime smelt a faint acrid tang. There must've been some sort of seal around it, because the moment Kuroo opened it he could hear chatter from inside.   
"You're lucky it's afternoon." Kuroo said, "things are quieter this time of day."   
Hajime followed him past a coat rack and into the next room. The people in there barely glanced at Kuroo, but Hajime could feel sharp, suspicious, gazes, digging into his skin. He kept his eyes focused on Kuroo's back as he manoeuvred them through the crowd, but out the corners of his vision he caught flashes of bright, oddly coloured hair, and talons wrapped around drinks, and leathery wings which twitched animatedly with the speakers words.   
"Rin, someone is here to see you!" Kuroo called quietly.   
"Tell them I don't do seconds." A woman said. Her voice was dark and thick, like honey.   
Hajime finally looked up. Someone was walking up to them, despite her words. She was wearing clothes which hugged her body, showing just enough skin to draw in the gaze. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. If he'd ever been attracted to woman, he might've fallen for the way her hair fell down her back and her plush red lips, and missed the glint in her eyes and the cruel twist of her mouth.   
Behind her stood a petite blonde girl, her eyes flicking between he and Kuroo nervously.   
"That's one piece of good news." She said, abandoning the lock of hair she'd been twirling around her finger. "You don't like woman, how quaint."   
"Perhaps I don't like you," Hajime said.   
She didn't like that, or maybe she did. Her mockery of a smile widened. "What have you brought me?" She asked Kuroo. Around her finger, she spun Oikawa’s ridiculous cell phone on its keychain.   
"He's looking for Oikawa." Kuroo told her, eyes following the phone, “and it looks like you brought him.”   
"Well I never expected a human to be on the other side of that number… although I suppose he wouldn’t text these to a fellow demon.” The screen was open to their message feed – there was nothing from the past week. “What do you want from him?” She asked Hajime.  
"I was just-" Just what? Curious? Worried?   
Rin grinned as his words stuttered out, and nudged the blonde.  
"Yachi, here we have a person who is hopelessly in love." She fixed her gaze back on Hajime. "I don't blame you, dear, he is attractive, and very good in bed. Oh,” she paused dramatically, advancing on him until he had no choice but to meet her eyes, “haven't gotten that far?"   
Hajime tore his eyes away. She'd unpicked him so easily, as if she could read minds.   
"She's an incubus." Kuroo said to him. He was watching Hajime curiously from the corner of his eye.  
"Those - they-" Hajime stuttered out.  
"Not all of them." Kuroo said, nodding to Yachi, "she's too pure for that, so she's going to learn blood magic."  
Hajime failed to see how blood magic was any nicer, but Rin appeared not to like his lack of attention.   
"Follow me." She said and begun taking long strides to another door.   
Hajime glanced uncertainly at Kuroo, who only shrugged, "she's not really murderous." He assured him, "and you'll be fine, since you're gay. She won’t take energy from someone unwilling."   
Rin was sitting on a bed which looked to be hers. The sheets were black, and the room smelt sweet.   
"This building is bigger on the inside, in case you were wondering." She said, "so tell me now that there are no prying ears, why do you seek Oikawa?"   
She'd seen it all already, Hajime was sure. He bit the bullet, "I'm worried for him. He isn't usually away this long."   
"How long has it been?" She asked.   
"Five days."   
She chuckled, "oh darling, I suppose we will be here a while. Five days for him is a walk in the park, you don't know him like I do... Or," she paused and tilted her head, "he doesn't act the same around you as he does me."   
"I just want to know where he is." Hajime said. He didn’t want to think about this person and Oikawa.  
"Who knows," Rin sighed. "He's horribly unpredictable at the best of times, and has almost no sense of self-preservation."  
"You and him...?" Hajime begun. He left the question hanging in the air, not quite sure if he wanted to know the answer.   
Rin shrugged. "We fucked - don't look like that, I am an incubus, and he wanted it as much as I - he doesn't get attached, not really, not to me." She looked a little wistful, her eyes glazing over, gaze off somewhere behind Hajime.   
The person she was describing sounded like Oikawa, but harsher. Oikawa when Hajime had first met him, when he was oblivious to all that lay under his exterior. Rin had his undivided attention.   
"Oikawa," she said, "barely even used to spend two nights in a row in the city, always returned beaten up and clutching something pricey and highly dangerous. You look surprised; so am I. I never thought someone would come looking for him. Does he know?"   
"I... don't know." Hajime said, more honestly than he intended.   
"Then he probably does, unless his judgement is seriously clouded. He'll be back."  
"But when?"   
"Missing him?" Rin said, resting her chin on her hands. Her time was sympathetic, but whether or not she actually felt that way was impossible to see. "If you're willing to wait for him, then he'll be back."   
She stood up suddenly, "you'd better get home before rush hour. I'd buy you a drink but, well, they'd probably kill you.” Her eyes pierced him as she turned and stood by the doorframe, “he's a mess,” she continued, “a goddamn, hot, smoking mess." Hajime winced as jabbed him in the chest with a sharp nail, "and you are good for him."   
For a moment she let the words sink in, then she added lightly, "I'd say too good for him, but, well, you're a little rough around the edges."   
He blinked, unsure of that twisted, backhanded compliment, and let her shoo him out. He’d come all this way only to find that no body else knew where he was either; Oikawa was completely alone. Hajime returned home. Oikawa was still far away; he could feel his consciousness, lurking on the edge of his own, but faintly. A whisper.   
His sleep was uneasy, and their third month was almost halfway gone. Hajime knew how to handle things, if only he'd return. At the head of Oikawa's futon was his only consolation; the small chest filled with whatever ingredients he'd been collecting. It was too valuable for Oikawa just to leave it behind.  
-  
And finally, the wait was over.  
It was late; perhaps it'd been daytime wherever Oikawa was, perhaps he'd thought that he'd be able to get past Hajime, like he wouldn't feel it the moment Oikawa was near. Hajime sat up and squinted at him. Instinctively he knew who it was, but he wanted to see him for real. On his face he could feel a kind of stiffness, and his knuckles were stinging, all aches and pains that did not belong to him. Oikawa’s injuried.  
He fumbled for his bedside light.   
"Don't." Oikawa said, his voice carefully toneless. "I'll just grab my things, it's been almost three months already."   
"No." Hajime sat bolt upright, his mouth moving before he'd thought about it, "you don't have to go." He amended.  
Oikawa sat on his futon, silhouetted by the small amount of light which filtered through Hajime's curtain. "I don't think it's a good idea," he said softly. "I make you uncomfortable, my kind does." A tiny bit of bitterness crept into his voice.   
"Don't ever assume what I feel." Hajime said harshly, "idiot."   
"Then what do you feel?" Oikawa challenged.  
Hajime got the feeling he waited with baited breath. It was too soon for this; his mind was still half-asleep, but Oikawa was demanding answers in the only way he knew how. He was trying to make Hajime angry.   
"You know what I feel." Hajime said, "you know that I'm attracted to you. Who wouldn't be? But don't be so dramatic. A relationship shouldn't be built off of something so... Insubstantial." He prayed that Oikawa wouldn’t catch the massive omission of truth. The lie.   
A heavy silence fell over them and Hajime waited, heart thumping in his chest.   
"So it's fine," Oikawa asked quietly, "if I stay."   
"If you want to." Hajime said, and then prayed silently that he would.   
"Well it is most convenient, and I need to dissolve the bond... Soon." Oikawa said.  
"Great, then I guess-"  
"-we're roommates." Oikawa said.  
"Yeah, roommates."  
And so they were roommates.   
(Oh my god they were roommates).  
-  
Oikawa was right there, and Hajime still couldn't reach him. Whatever this new ‘friendship’ was, it was very different to before.  
Suddenly he was gone by nightfall, re-appearing at random times a couple days later. Sometimes he was unscathed, and others he had black eyes and scrapes all over his body. Matsukawa would have been concerned if he could see him, but Oikawa had the uncanny ability to avoid his gaze and sink into the background.  
Only Hajime could see how he grew more and more exhausted.   
The shadows under his eyes became bruise-like on his pale skin, and his movements were mechanical.   
"Where have you been going?" Hajime asked.   
Oikawa only shrugged, "everywhere I need to go. I haven't been moving as quickly as I anticipated." He rubbed his temples, "I guess I got too comfortable." With a casual wave, he dismissed Hajime's concerned gaze. "There's only a thing or too left."   
There was no longer any hunger in his eyes when he spoke about the spell, only a determined, exhausted kind of look.   
Hajime thought back to Rin and her words in the club. Wondered if this was what he'd been like when she knew him. If she'd ever been able to snap him out of this spiralling path of self-destruction he'd embarked on.   
"You have to at least sleep," he told him, another night.   
"I have been," Oikawa said, pouting not unlike a frustrated child.   
"How much have you gotten?" Hajime asked.   
"A couple of hours."   
"Over how long?" Hajime asked.  
Oikawa scowled. "A week- look, demons don't need as much sleep as humans."   
"Since when did you refer to yourself as a demon?" Hajime asked, voice rising.   
"Since you started thinking of me as one." Oikawa met his gaze, almost levelly, before his eyes slipped away. "Sorry," he muttered.   
"Doesn't matter." Hajime said tersely, "just... Have a rest for a day or so. I'm worried about you."   
He'd left Oikawa's futon exactly the same; covers a little rumpled, mysterious chest at the end of the bed. Oikawa stripped and pulled on some pyjama's without further ado, and Hajime reminded himself that he was not meant to stare and Oikawa's body any more than he'd been meant to before. It was stupid, how amongst all this, the part of him which was blindly attracted to Oikawa, the part which had been there from the start, was still there.  
Oikawa woke them both past midnight, not that he'd meant to, of course. Hajime reached across for him in the dark, opening his mouth to ask if he wanted water. They'd been trapped underground, and Hajime's throat was dry with the earth he had dreamed of chocking on.   
"I'm fine." Oikawa said. There was the rustle of him turning over. "This whole nightmare thing gets a little old after a while."  
Hajime did not withdraw his hand. He could still feel the twisted terror those dreams awoke inside Oikawa. The horror of memories so carefully buried during the day, awakening.   
"Iwaizumi, go back to sleep." Oikawa said harshly.   
"If you want to be left alone, then... That's alright, and I will - but if this is because of..." Hajime swallowed, "the other day-"  
"Which part, Iwa-chan, be specific."   
Hajime had never heard his name said with quite so much venom before.   
"I'm still your friend, Oikawa." He said, "no matter what, I just...” He couldn’t finish the sentence – he didn’t know how. He just couldn’t let Oikawa complete the spell. He couldn’t let him go.  
He waited in the dark, his heart beat stuttering in his chest, his palms sweaty. Normally he would have worried Oikawa would catch him in the lie, but Oikawa's mind was sluggish with the dregs of sleep and fear which still welled up in him. His anger drained away. Tentative finger's found Hajime's and he wrapped his hand around them.   
They lay like that for a while.   
"I don't think I'm going to get back to sleep." Oikawa admitted finally, his voice tight with frustration. His fingers twitched in Hajime's grasp.   
"Come here." Hajime said, sleepily.   
"What?"   
He tugged gently on Oikawa's hand, and Oikawa followed the movement.   
For a second, he hovered uncertainly over Hajime, "you want me to..."   
"Only if you want to." Hajime said. He pressed himself against one wall, leaving enough space on the mattress for one other person to get into the bed. It would be snug for sure.   
Oikawa climbed under the covers after only a moment’s hesitation. His body shook faintly, still tense from fear. Slowly, as the night wore on, he relaxed. Hajime was asleep before he could register this, before he could stop himself from shuffling closer.   
Sharing a bed, he realized when he woke up, would only make things more difficult, but the previous night he'd wanted nothing more to than to hold Oikawa, and Oikawa, he suspected, wanted nothing more than to be held.   
For two days Oikawa stayed around, but each time Hajime saw him, he looked more and more restless.   
"I have two more things I need," he blurted finally, "so I'm going to go get them now."   
And Hajime wondered if he'd ever see him again.   
He would be stupid to believe he was the only person in the world who loved Oikawa – he’d seen something of it in Rin, underneath her cruel smile – but he might be the only person who could give Oikawa what he needed. Sugawara had said the emotions had to be human.  
-  
He got a call from an unknown number. He watched the screen flash until the call ended, but whoever was on the other side kept calling, and calling. They left no voice mail, and the calls were back to back, as if they knew Hajime held his phone in his hands.   
Finally, he picked up.   
"You have to come collect Oikawa," said a voice on the other end of the line. It was Rin, he was sure.   
"What do you mean?" He asked, a little quickly to be casual. "Is he hurt?"   
"No. I can't smell blood."   
"Then why are you calling?" Hajime asked impatiently.   
"He's just... here." Rin said, "he's normally drinking or talking or, well, with me, but right now he isn't saying anything." her voice was equal parts worried and resigned.  
"I-so? Maybe he just wants peace and quiet." Hajime said.   
"Oikawa wanting peace and quiet?" Rin snickered, "he likes noise, he likes distraction. Very few demons like to be alone with their thoughts." Her voice turned softer, "seriously, Iwaizumi, he's your friend and he needs friendship right now."   
Hajime weighed up his options. She'd placed an uncomfortable amount of emphasis on the word 'friend', and he didn't like the way she spoke of Oikawa. Like she knew him better than he did. Like she knew parts of him he never would.   
"Your three months are almost up," Rin said quietly, "he's internalising something, and it's bad, Iwaizumi. I never - I'm not the kind of person who can offer comfort, and he's never asked for it either, but right now..."   
She fell silent on her end of the line. Hajime could hear muffled voices through the speaker. It was later in the day - the tavern would be busy if what she'd told him last time was any indicator - but he thought of Oikawa and stood of his own accord.   
"You know where to go," Rin said.   
And so he did.   
The tavern was busy. He had to shoulder his way through all manner of... Beings. People with extra arms or too-bright hair or freezing cold skin. Some of them looked human, but for slit pupils or teeth just slightly too pointy. Even amongst the strange silhouettes, Hajime could spot Oikawa sitting at the bar stool. Around him the counter was empty, as if people could sense his mood. The closer Hajime got, the stronger he felt the void in his chest. A terrifying kind of space he could only skim the edges of.  
Rin was in the corner, with the little blonde girl again. She was holding some kind of book but when she saw Hajime she jerked her head in Oikawa's direction, as if to tell him to hurry up. Hajime hadn't even realized he'd been hesitating, but his feet had slowed.   
Something about the way Oikawa sat made him look broken; his shoulders hunched, shoulder blades making ridges in his shirt like the stumps of wings. His edges were sharp.   
Hajime placed a hand on his back anyway, and Oikawa jumped. His head whipped around, mouth curled in a snarl, which faded when he saw Hajime.   
"Let's go home." Hajime said softly.   
"Is your roommate in?" Oikawa asked. He leaned back into Hajime's hand.   
"No, he's working."   
"Then I guess..." Oikawa stood up and rolled his neck. The bones clicked and Hajime winced. Oikawa must've been sitting there for a long time.  
They walked home in silence, Oikawa a few careful steps behind Hajime. His face was shadowed whenever he looked back and tried to read his clenched jaw and the harsh lines in his forehead.   
"Are you alright?" Hajime asked.   
"What do you think?" Oikawa asked stiffly.   
"I think you will be..." Hajime answered slowly, "at some point, but right now you don't have to be."   
"I don't have time to not be okay." Oikawa said impatiently.   
"You do-"   
"A week, Hajime. Then our contract ends, and the guild is after me, along with thirty other demons - and the phase of the moon is important. In two weeks, it will be perfect and I'm still missing something."   
"What is it?" Hajime asked stiffly. He had a feeling he knew what it was.   
Oikawa laughed bitterly, "a humans love. I've tried everything else; I've tried everything from hatred and lust to that mild annoyance you feel when someone cuts in line. Kuroo agrees that it must be, he and Kenma have scoured the archives. I payed them the head of the serpent queen for them to tell me it was something unobtainable.”   
"It's not impossible," Hajime said, but very quietly. It was not lost on him that he could solve every one of Oikawa's problem with three simple words, almost instantaneously. Then he thought of the precious week ahead of them. Oikawa may not be able to cast the spell until the moon was right, but saying something like that, especially after that kiss under the cherry blossom tree, could only end in disaster. Hajime was a selfish human being.   
"It’s meant to be." Oikawa said dully, “impossible, I mean.” He didn't seem to pick up on the implications of Hajime's statement, but he fell into step with Hajime, their shoulders brushing idly with each movement.   
"Why should it be?"   
"Who would love a demon?" Oikawa asked, "it doesn't matter how we look, if we can pass as human or not there's something-" he thumped his chest- "something different. Maybe it's a defence mechanism." He laughed again. Hajime was beginning to miss his real laugh, his real smile.   
"That ancient - the one I got this spell from - he knew." Oikawa's fists clenched at his sides, "it's the last hurdle, like a - a child safety lock on the universe. I should have known there was a reason no one had done this before."   
He'd stopped walking. Hajime stood with him, his eyes fixed doggedly on Oikawa's clenched fists, avoiding his gaze.   
"What will you do?" He asked softly.   
Oikawa shrugged, "hell if I know. This has been my plan for as long as I can remember."   
"Why?"   
"Why?" Oikawa repeated incredulously.   
"Yeah, why? And don't say something stupid, you're deeper than that."   
"How do you know, Iwa-chan?"  
Oikawa said his nickname like he was stepping back from whatever ledge he'd been about to plunge off of. Like he was drawing the conversation into safer grounds, shallower waters.   
Hajime didn't let him.  
"You can't be scared of anything," he breathed, now face to face with him, "if you don't care about your life. I've seen you scared, Oikawa."   
"Powers an addicting thing, worse than any drug. You see it all the time – who wouldn’t want power?” Oikawa said, staring doggedly into Hajime’s eyes, like he was forcing himself to. Hajime stayed quiet. Oikawa hissed something in annoyance and shook his head, “then you know already. I don't want to be scared, Iwaizumi. I'm so goddamn sick of fearing things, of guilt and - and-" he cut himself off with a thick swallow, "I want to burn." He whispered harshly, "I want to burn away the humanity in my bloodstream. Demons are free."  
"What would you live for?"   
"Not this." Oikawa said. Shadows danced across his face, but his eyes glimmered dully from amongst them. Hajime felt a prick of fear in his stomach, almost stronger than the acrid bitterness he felt in Oikawa. The scar on his shoulder begun to ache sharply.  
"Let's go home," he said. He couldn't comprehend what it was Oikawa felt, was feeling, only that it hurt him to see him like that. It scared him.   
"You didn't like my answer." Oikawa said. There was an accusatory note in his voice.   
"No I- well, at least it's not world domination or something." Hajime joked weakly.   
Even though it fell flat, neither of them had the energy to care. Hajime could only think of their week, their last week.   
And Oikawa burning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Oh my god they were roommates)   
> I just struggled to write a 5000 word bio report so bad. Like that killed me. It took me like three weeks and now its due and I haven't even edited it but oh well.   
> And then I compare it to this, which I did struggle writing a little, lets be fair, but it was so fun?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a train wreck of a chapter oop-

It was a week of awkward silences and tiptoeing around each other. It was a week of Matsukawa trying to bridge the gap between them until he finally, eventually gave up. The awkwardness wouldn’t have been so bad if it were normal but being around Oikawa was like walking on broken glass; it hurt.  
But even this was so very worth it.  
And then, on the Saturday, Oikawa just… didn’t return.   
-  
Usually when someone told Oikawa to go to hell he didn't listen, but there were rare occasions where the advice of strangers was actually useful - even if that stranger had been wearing a suspiciously long cape and had spoken exclusively in the ancient tongue.   
Technically he'd said 'the underworld' and technically that place was very much in the living realm, but Gods, it was close enough.   
For a start, it was freezing.   
Of course, hell was stereotyped as hot, but Oikawa knew from experience that if you were visiting you should wear extra layers. He’d found a jacket in the back of Hajime’s closet. He hadn’t been sure why he was looking there at all, but it was old, and Japan was going into summer. Maybe if it (he) survived the trip he would get it dry cleaned and return it.   
He just wanted to take something with him, and though the coat was musty it smelt like Hajime.  
Now he was in the mountains somewhere far away. It was impossible to know his exact location; the whole place was shrouded with layers upon layers of enchantments, and the only ways in were through dingy, suspicious, back alleys, hundreds of miles away. That said a lot about the residents of the underworld.   
There were other havens. Fae which lived in ancient protected forests, nymphs in the volcanic hot springs, and city demons in small forgotten corners in any major city. The Fallen had to live in the mountains, where it was freezing, and the air was thin.   
He supposed even angels without wings wanted to reach the sky.   
To get to the Fallen he'd have to get past his retinue of guard dogs - hell hounds, goblins – all those who were paid (or threatened) to protect him. Oikawa would pass them somehow.   
His fingers twitched. He wasn't sure what he'd do when he reached the Fallen himself. Demand something from him, as he had the first time. Tear him apart.   
All temporary solutions, but it was all he had to cling onto, that flimsy sense of purpose. His heart twinged. Distantly he could feel his bond to Iwaizumi, though he must be half a world away. It might have surprised him that it could reach that far, even penetrate spells made to keep out any whiff of humanity, but he'd done that himself. He’d taken that bond and poured the deepest parts of him into it, and the shallowest, and everything he had, until it was stronger than steel.   
He was beginning to wonder if it would dissolve when he wanted it to, or if part of it would always remain.  
Anger bubbled up inside him and he turned his attention to the dammed spell instead. The thought of it, of the universe conspiring against his freedom, fuelled it and he relished in the way it burned unnaturally through his blood.   
This, he thought, taking those first steps towards the gates, was what being a demon would feel like.   
It was something sharp, stinging and painful. It was powerful. He let it consume him until it drowned Iwaizumi out.   
He reached his first opponent, maybe he asked them to let him pass first, gave them a chance - he didn't remember. Only that they didn't let him. If they threw the first punch, the first spell, he felt nothing. There was only the fierce joy of his fingers tearing through flesh.  
Freedom had become one with lack of guilt. It felt like falling.   
Somewhere far, far below him was the ground, and when he touched it the impact would kill him. His fears lay there, with the impact, for now he felt only the air rushing past him, whistling in his ears. A dull roar which drowned everything out.   
Pain throbbed somewhere on his body, but he registered it only dimly.   
Careful of the blood, he thought coolly, I could slip.  
One slip would mean death.   
Later he would realize that the ground was not far below him, but right under his nose, and he was blind to it.   
-  
Something was very wrong.   
Hajime was missing something, something vital. Without it, it was difficult to breathe, and the world was monotone. He was empty.   
He was missing Oikawa.   
The bond was so dull that in its absence the burn mark on his arm throbbed. There were no emotions in his chest which weren’t his own, detangled from Oikawa’s. It should have been refreshing but Hajime wondered if this was what he'd felt like before any of this happened; empty.   
All day he was anxious. When a classmate sat down beside him at a lecture, he jumped. When customers came up behind him as he stocked shelves at work, he started, dropping the can he'd been holding.   
It was near closing where he lost the ability to maintain any semblance of normalcy; a searing pain cut into his side and he blanched as it burned white hot and kept burning. The bond was still faint, but it was a wound that cut through space and time.   
Somehow, Hajime made his way to the front and muttered an excuse to Ukai. He must have looked bad, because his manager let him go without complaint. He let himself out the back door and found himself standing in the very back street it’d all begun.   
Perhaps if he could go back in time, he'd never set foot outside that door to take out the trash.   
Fumbling with his phone, he managed to dial the number Sugawara had given him, back when he'd been desperately clinging to the notion that all of this, with Oikawa, with the supernatural, was temporary. He took a moment to breath, thumb hovering over the contact icon.   
Finally, he clicked it. The phone rang only twice before someone picked up. A pause, then, "Iwaizumi?" It was Sugawara's voice, and Hajime sighed in relief despite himself. In the blur of pain, Sugawara had a comforting presence.   
"What's wrong?" Sugawara asked.  
"It's Oikawa." Hajime begun.   
"He hasn't done anything stupid, has he?" Sugawara said wryly, "your three months are up, almost exactly."   
Hajime looked up at the sky. It was indeed almost closing time; if it were a Sunday, Ukai would just be hauling out the rubbish for collection.   
The pain in his side seemed to double, and beneath it all he could feel the ache of the handprint on his shoulder. His silence must've said it all.   
"He's... Somewhere far away."   
"You're still bonded?"   
"Yeah."   
"Then we're obligated to help you." Sugawara stated simply.  
"He's hurt." Hajime said, "badly, I think."   
"And you can feel it? I'm on my way."   
Hajime's vision spun and he fought to stay awake. Fully he could hear a voice on the other side of the line, but he didn't know how much time had passed when someone supported him from behind. He forced his eyes to refocus. Hinata was there, and Sugawara, and Kageyama.   
Hinata was babbling - questioning him, he realized, but very erratically. Kageyama made to shut him but, but only diverted his attention, and their bickering continued in the background. Even so it was a welcome relief. Sugawara prised the phone from his grip.   
"We need to find him first," he said, "do you have any idea where he is?"   
"The only ingredient left was... Love, and I don't think he's trying to find it. He said something about going to hell."   
Sugawara regarded him a little sadly. Hajime pressed his hand to his side, still expecting to feel blood but finding nothing. The flame of guilt grew his chest. This could have been avoided if he'd given Oikawa what he'd needed. Now he was somewhere far away, fighting for his life - or perhaps just fighting.   
"Do you know where he means?" He asked.   
"Not literal hell, don't worry, but there are places in this world that are... Cut off from everything. I don't know if we'll be able to get in."   
Hajime tensed, "we have to," he said.   
"What if we use the - the soulmate bond thing to track it?" Hinata butted in, "we can go to Akaashi, they can do it."  
Hajime winced at the name he chose for it.  
Sugawara's face fell into a frown, "we can't ask that of them, and you know it."   
"If Oikawa’s in one of the havens there's no other way, we need to bring him to us." Hinata said.  
Hajime hovered anxiously as they argued. Every second seemed to drag on, as Oikawa - and himself - inched closer to death. A blind rage pulsed faintly under the pain - it was not his own. Oikawa was doing something mind numbingly reckless.   
"We have to do something now." He cut in. Once the glare Kageyama shot him might have been chilling, but he could think of nothing but Oikawa.   
"There are two people in the world that have even the slightest chance of pulling Oikawa from the place he is now," Sugawara said, "one is an outcast-"   
"A demon sympathiser," Kageyama spat.   
Sugawara shushed him with a wave of his hand, "the other, well he was Akaashi's apprentice, but he hasn't learned all he needs to yet. It'd be risky."  
"Oikawa will die." Hajime said with a certainty he wished he didn't feel. Colours he hadn't even known existed swam in his vision.   
"And so will you." Sugawara stood, helping him up. "We'll take you to our compound; you will speak of its location to nobody, we may even need to erase your memory of it once this is over. Yamaguchi will need his runes to perform the spell."   
"What happens-" Hajime swallowed dryly- "if it goes wrong?"   
"If Yamaguchi cannot channel the energy correctly then it will go rogue." Sugawara said shortly.   
"You'll explode, and so will he... And probably Oikawa-" Hinata butted in helpfully.   
"-Shut up, idiot." Kageyama growled. Hinata yelped and Hajime figured he'd just been elbowed sharply.   
"Yamaguchi lacks confidence but he's better than even he believes." Sugawara said.   
He'd led them to a car with tinted windows, and he bundled Hajime inside. It struck him that this would look like a kidnapping to any outsider. It also struck him that he was going to an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people, who could mess with his memories if they so choose.  
-  
Yamaguchi was much shorter than Hajime, with a mop of dark hair which fell into his eyes. A smattering of freckles dusted the bridge of his nose. His hands were delicate - and his fingers twitched nervously when he heard what he would have to do. He didn't look capable of summoning a demon, not from hell, or wherever Oikawa was.  
His large eyes settled anxiously on Hajime; he couldn't have been older than seventeen. If Hajime had any energy left, he would have smiled reassuringly, but he was so exhausted he knew it'd look more like a grimace.   
Yamaguchi gathered materials, and begun sketching runes on the marble floor of the room they were in.   
"Marble channels energy," Sugawara explained quietly, "and the runes he's using will serve as a kind of barrier."   
"From what?"   
"Anything that might go wrong." Sugawara said without missing a beat.   
A man walked into the room. His hair was cropped short and his eyebrows were bunched in the middle.   
"You're sure this is a good idea?" He asked Sugawara.   
"This is Sawamura Daichi." Sugawara whispered quickly, then louder, "it's the only idea."   
Sawamura massaged his temples, "you take the contract too literally, Suga, we can't risk losing Yamaguchi over-" he nodded at Hajime, his face twisting with worry. Worry for Yamaguchi, of course.  
Sugawara brought himself over to stand toe to toe with him. "You don't think Yamaguchi can do it?" He challenged.   
"I don't think he should have to." Sawamura said, after a slight pause. His voice was calm and not unkind.   
"When have we ever had time to wait until we're ready to do something?" Sugawara asked, bitterness seeping into his tone.   
Sawamura rested a hand on his shoulder, "we can make time for them," he said, his eyes softening, "it doesn't have to be the same."   
"I can do it." Yamaguchi cut in. He was still kneeling on the floor, his fingers stained with whatever ink he'd been painting the runes with. Hajime's heart pounded desperately.  
Sugawara released a long breath, leaning into Sawamura's touch briefly before turning.   
"I shouldn't have asked you." He said carefully.   
"I can do it." He repeated, face set.   
Hajime doubted that he would be able to change Sugawara's mind - doubted he'd be able to perform whatever complicated piece of magic was even needed.  
"You shouldn't have to." Sawamura said. He stepped away from Sugawara to kneel beside Yamaguchi.   
"It's in the contract." Yamaguchi said, "the one I waited so long to sign." He painted another rune with a flourish. "I've studied and studied..."   
"It's a dangerous world," Sawamura said, "sometimes you study all you can, and it isn't enough."   
"I am enough." Yamaguchi said, "I know Akaashi was powerful but they aren’t coming back, not after-" he swallowed and some of the skittishness he'd shown when he'd entered the room returned, "not after you exiled them."   
"If you sign a contract," Sawamura said quietly, almost sadly, "you have to follow it down to the letter."  
"I know."   
There was a long silence, in which Yamaguchi looked steadily up at Sawamura, who frowned down at him, as if realizing he’d backed himself into a corner. Hajime pressed his hands behind his back to stop them shaking; the pain was getting worse by the second, and he didn't doubt that one word from Sawamura would end it all.   
"We'll pull you out if anything goes even slightly awry." He said, kneeling beside Yamaguchi and taking the brush from him.   
"Yeah," Yamaguchi said, breathing out shakily. He stood and took something else out of his pocket, a length of rope. He gestured for Hajime to come closer, his eyes flicking to the side as he recalled the steps for the spell.   
With a small, silver, knife he pricked the skin on Hajime's wrist, then his own, and bound them together. The new flash of pain was almost refreshing. He could feel it for only a moment before the ghost of Oikawa's wound consumed him again. Hajime struggled to stay afloat above it all as Yamaguchi begin to speak.   
Where they were linked, Hajime could feel a soft, delicate energy flow through him. It was the second time in three months he was giving his life over to a stranger without knowing the permanent effects.   
This time he couldn't quite bring himself to care about the consequences.   
The runes on the floor begun to glow so brightly Hajime squeezed his eyes shut. Wind rose up around them, battering his clothes around his legs and whipping his hair into his eyes. He could only wait, try weather out the storm.   
The pain in his side grew more intense and he took a gasping breath, one that yielded nothing as the wind ripped the oxygen away. Hajime hunched over. Yamaguchi's grip tightened on his own and Hajime heard his voice over the wind, shouting something high and clear.   
Then it was gone.   
Yamaguchi pulled him back. There was a shadow in front of them, one which didn't move with the still-flickering lights of the runes. Hajime gulped air. Beside him Yamaguchi did the same, staring intently at the shadow.   
It begun to gather the light of the runes, until it was full to bursting. The temperature of the room seemed to drop several degrees and Hajime heard a voice - Sawamura's, perhaps - shouting something. The shape shuddered violently, and more energy disappeared into it. Even the light in the room dimmed and it was difficult to move, as if the air had become thick like syrup.   
Hajime squinted at the shape. He knew without a doubt that it was Oikawa. The pain in his side increased threefold, and their bond begun to hum. He could almost see, amongst the streaks of light which had begun to flow towards the shadow, the silvery threads of their conjoined souls.   
He tried to follow it into the chaos in the circle of runes. The shadow was beginning to tear the room apart, wavering at the edges, overflowing with energy.   
Yamaguchi shouted something and ripped his hand from Hajime's grasp. There was a thunderclap of sound and everything stilled. Dust clouded the room, making the tired electric lights look like sunrays in the early morning.   
Hajime clenched his fists as the pain made acid rise in his throat. He could hear someone's rasping breathing and knew without a doubt that it was Oikawa. They made eye contact through the dust.   
Oikawa's pupils were narrow and slitted, almost invisible in his irises, which had become a putrid yellow. Hajime stood and took a step towards him. His eyes fell to the blood dripping through Oikawa's hands, pressed to his side. It was thick and dark, as if it came straight from his heart. Hajime was barely standing through the pain.   
Oikawa collapsed into his arms when Hajime reached him, and the pain lessened somewhat. For a moment it was just them, clinging to each other, heedless of their surroundings.   
'What the hell," he rasped. Hajime glimpsed razor-sharp teeth in his mouth. His lip was broken in several places; he'd bitten it himself. He looked both more inhuman and more human than Hajime had ever seen him.  
His fingers clenched in Hajime's shirt and he inhaled a long, unsteady breath. Then Sawamura spoke.   
"Your three months is up, your contract is over." His eyes fell hard on Oikawa. Hajime realized that he was clutching Oikawa to his chest protectively. Oikawa shifted in his grasp, and he felt blood cling to his fingers and the pain multiply yet again. He didn't know how Oikawa bore it; his face, though stiff, was as unreadable as ever.  
Oikawa’s gaze tunnelled into his.  
He was still wild from the fight. Feral, almost. Hajime did not, could not, look away.  
But whatever Oikawa was searching for, he didn’t find. Hajime flinched as Oikawa hooked a clawed finger under his left sleeve and jerked it upwards. The fabric tore easily. Sawamura and Sugawara stepped forwards, concealed weapons drawn; Hajime didn't even flinch.   
Oikawa fitted his hand to the print; somehow, they were in almost the same position as they had been all that time ago.   
And just like then, Hajime had no idea what was coming.   
Oikawa breathed out a long, slow breath. Gradually, he pulled his hand away, Hajime felt something follow it; the bond, as if Oikawa were pulling it in long threads from his blood vessels. It should have been gentle, like the waves lapping a lake shore. The pain from Oikawa's wound should have disappeared and left him blessedly whole.   
Instead it was a sickening sensation, like Oikawa was pulling the plasma from his bloodstream or the oxygen from his lungs. He felt empty. Unable to function – or maybe without a function altogether.   
Oikawa was not breaking the bond; there was no place to break. He was pulling Hajime apart piece by piece, unwinding his very being.  
Then he was gone, before Hajime could even offer to help him one last time, as if the gash in his side could be fixed.   
It took Hajime until he got home to realize that even the scar on his arm was gone, and it'd been only the blood left by Oikawa's fingers that had left the shape.   
-  
Hajime remade Oikawa's futon and left it sitting in the bedroom. The box was gone, Oikawa's few belongings as well, even his soap from the shower, but his sheets still smelled like him. Hajime found himself sitting there after dragging himself through another day, soaking it all up.   
Rin texted him. First to say Oikawa was alive. Then to ask him to do something. To say something to Oikawa. He ignored them.  
Matsukawa was there for him; he made breakfast more than usual, he dragged him out of his room to watch movies. Little things that made life bearable. That reminded Hajime that no one person would and should ever be all that existed in his life.  
He went looking for Oikawa anyway, though. It was the night of the blue moon and there was only one place Hajime could think Oikawa would be. He made his way there, shivering in the cold – he’d left his jacket somewhere.   
Even the oncoming spring seemed to have halted, and the world was colder than ever at night.   
Memories played through his mind, of the moon flowers, Oikawa's mothers grave. The brush of Oikawa's fingers on his own. His fingers twitched in the fabric of his shirt.   
He stood outside the graveyard for several moments, as his eyes adjusted to the world in front of him. Finally, he eased the gate open, wincing as it creaked, as if Oikawa hadn’t heard his approach from a mile away. His thundering heartbeat.   
Oikawa was a lone figure in the middle of the graveyard. The soft glow of moon flowers clutched in his hands illuminated his shape like a halo.   
Ironic, considering why he was here.   
"Iwaizumi," Oikawa said, looking up. It almost hurt to hear his full name from Oikawa's mouth.   
"Why are you here?" He asked.  
Oikawa sat down clumsily, as if his knees had given out. He was surrounded by a collection of items. The bundle of moon flowers splayed out on the ground around them. Their light begun to dim almost at once.   
"I don't know." He admitted.   
Hajime winced as Oikawa's words fell into the empty air. There was no accompanying jolt in his chest; they were completely separate.   
"I could make it happen. Give it a month and I’d, I’d find someone. They’d love me in time, perhaps-"  
"But you don't have a month," Hajime said, looking at what Oikawa had become. “You don’t have time.”   
Oikawa was wilted and dying. Helpless as he let fate take him up and toss him about like a toy ship on stormy seas.   
"No. I'd have to wait years for the next moon." Oikawa brought his knees to his chest, "I don't have years." He picked up one of the moon flowers and twirled it between his fingers. Its silvery light fluctuated, "and I don't want anyone else’s love." His whisper was almost too quiet to hear, the slightest exhale of air.  
Suddenly, Hajime didn't need the bond to see what he was thinking. There was only pain in his gaze. Something irreparable.  
He knelt down as well.   
“Your side…” He said, his eyes drifted to where he’d been soaked in blood barely a fortnight (an eternity) ago.  
Oikawa shrugged and pulled his shirt up. The skin was red and raw, but otherwise healed.   
“How…?”   
Oikawa shrugged, “running on adrenaline does odd things to the body. You… I can’t believe you felt it, from so far away.”   
“Why, I-“ Hajime stopped himself.  
He’d been going to say something stupid, something about how he always felt Oikawa, but it was irrelevant. They were, after all, lacking time. “How do you use love in a spell?" He asked instead.   
Oikawa shrugged apathetically, letting his shirt drop. "It's just... There. You can't cage it. You can't hide it - or so I've been told." He laughed wryly.   
"Then do it."   
"What?"   
"Cast your spell anyway," Hajime told him, "there's time, right? You have nothing to lose."  
"I'm enjoying clinging onto my last shred of hope, thanks." Oikawa said. He glanced up at the sky, the moon reflected in his glassy eyes.   
"Do it," Hajime pushed, "what's the point of hope now."   
"You're a real ray of sunshine today, aren't you?" Oikawa said. His voice was quiet and resigned. He gathered the ingredients around him anyway and begun arranging them in a pattern around him. Under his breath he muttered something too low for Hajime to understand, if it was in Japanese at all. He could only watch as it all came together.   
As ingredient after ingredient did what it needed to do. As the moonflowers shone brighter.  
Oikawa realized.   
There was a hitch in his voice. A pause in the spell. The moonflowers seemed to suck in the light around them.   
They were at a point of no return.   
Oikawa was looking at him like - like he was angry. Like he’d been betrayed.   
"You- It's working." He said.   
"Yeah." Hajime said. His voice cracked, like this was a confession of love and only love. Like he hadn’t let Oikawa suffer for so long.  
"You're not surprised." Oikawa said. There was something in his eyes, something unfathomable.   
"No."   
"You-" Oikawa begun again, his tone louder, then he stiffened.   
His head snapped back. His fingers flexed. A crunching sound reached Hajime's ears; the sound of bones snapping and reforming. Everything seemed to move under Oikawa's skin, as if insects writhed underneath. Despite himself, Hajime stepped back.  
A gurgling noise reached his ears; from Oikawa, as he choked on his own blood - blood that became darker by the second as it flowed from the corners of his mouth.   
And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over.   
Oikawa was standing before him, wiping the blood from his mouth. His eyes fell on the dark colour.   
Hajime was frozen to the spot. Oikawa was the same, even if the blood flowing through his veins was different, Oikawa made him feel the same.  
Hajime opened his mouth to tell him so - but Oikawa was gone.   
All he left behind were the crushed stems of the moonflowers and Hajime.   
It should have been a love confession, all those weeks ago. Before things had become like this.  
It should have been a love confession.   
-  
He’d lost him again and he had to know why Oikawa had run.   
(He had to see Oikawa just one last time)  
There was so many loose ends and Hajime found himself tugging on them one by one, no matter how they hurt him.   
Some, small, decrepit flame of hope still stuttered in his chest, like it would all be okay, if only they could talk.   
Maybe their time didn’t have to be up.  
He tried Rin. She didn’t know anything, only looked at him with an odd mix of disappointment and anger. They’d both failed after all, and now Oikawa, a new demon, she’d called him, was alone in the world somewhere.   
“Try Akaashi,” she told him finally, “Yachhan-“ she nodded at a the little blonde girl- “is smart but she’s only just beginning – and you don’t have any of Oikawa’s blood.” And she gave him an address. He thought, as he left the tavern, that he heard her tell him ‘good luck’, but her voice was only a whisper.   
He was missing out on his shift at work, but he couldn’t help but go to the address immediately, because Akaashi must be able to help him, if they were so powerful even demons know about them.  
Hajime didn’t have to knock even once, at the non-descript door of the house he’d been led to. Someone swung it open.  
They were tall; so tall that they had to duck in the door frame. Spiked, partially silver hair and large golden eyes gave them the appearance of an owl, and their presence was as loud as an owl was quiet.  
“Hey hey hey!” They greeted, with a wide, oddly genuine grin.   
“Akaashi?” Hajime tried. The name did not fit the person.   
They ducked back into the house, “Akaashi, he’s one of yours!”   
Moments later, another person ducked under the tall one’s arm. They were shorter, though not by much, with soft black hair and piercing grey eyes.   
“What is your name?” They asked, “and who sent you?”  
“Iwaizumi.” Hajime didn’t dare offer his full name, “Rin sent me.”   
“How is she?” The silver-haired one butted in.   
Akaashi nudged them gently, “I don’t think this is a social call, Bokuto.” they said.   
“Right, right.” Bokuto ducked out of the door frame, “he’s all yours then.” They – he – vanished somewhere inside. Distantly, Hajime could hear the sound of cutlery clinking and a jug beginning to boil.   
Akaashi shook their head fondly. Their eyes hardened the moment they turned to Hajime’s, though.   
“Why are you here?” They asked.   
“I wanted help finding someone,” Hajime told them, “Rin said you were the only one who could help.”   
“Of course,” they said gesturing gracefully at him to come in, “a human, sent by Rin. What does she gain?”   
“I don’t know.” Hajime admitted.  
“Then who do you seek?” They asked.   
The two of them had entered a sitting room. A plush sofa took up the middle of it, and shelves lined the wall. They were filled with a clutter of strange contraptions, ones that Hajime might’ve taken the time to examine, if he weren’t so nervous.   
But he was, so he sat where Akaashi gestured, folding his legs to fit between sofa and coffee table as best he could.   
“Oikawa.” Hajime said.   
Akaashi waited, and Hajime realised he didn’t have a full name to give. He opened his mouth to say so, then, from down the hall:   
“Oikawa? The half-blood?”   
Bokuto poked an inquisitive head into the room, holding a tray of tea. Akaashi shrugged exasperatedly and Bokuto set it down.   
“I could smell your fear,” he said matter-of-factly to Hajime, and pushed the tea towards him.   
“He’s a full demon now.” Hajime said instead. He chose to pick up the tea, if only for something to do with his hands.   
“How does one change the blood in their veins?” Akaashi asked. To Hajime’s surprise, their eyes flicked to Bokuto.   
Bokuto shrugged, “there’s not much knowledge of that, even in the underworld.” He said, “but looking at you…” his owlish eyes narrowed in concentration, “there are still traces of him on you… a kind of… protection rune.”   
“Huh?” Hajime’s hand lifted to his left shoulder of its own volition, but there was nothing there. He must’ve run his thumb over the smooth, empty skin, a hundred times this day alone.   
“No, not there.” Bokuto leaned forwards and inspected him. Even this close there seemed to be no pore’s in his skin. He placed a thumb over Hajime’s lower lip and made to ease it open, like a vet inspecting a cat.   
“Personal space, Bokuto.” Akaashi reminded him gently, as Hajime jerked away.  
“Oh, sorry, sorry.” Bokuto withdrew with an easy laugh, “I think it’s in your mouth, you two have been busy – uh, no, not the time for that yet, I guess.” He glanced over at Akaashi, “we’re going to help him, right?” He asked.   
“How?” Akaashi asked. Their delicate brows pinched together slightly in the centre. “A protection rune like that leaves barely a trace, and if he did what you think he did… he may not be himself for some time.”  
“I don’t think Oikawa knows who ‘he’ is.” Hajime said gruffly.  
“Changing your blood… it’s like a lot of medicines. He’ll get what he wants in the end, but he could destroy a lot more in the process.” Bokuto said.   
“I don’t care.” Hajime almost snapped, “I just need… one more chance.”   
“What did you do with the other chances?” Akaashi asked.   
“Waited too long.” Hajime said shortly.   
They seemed to understand that at least. “I will not summon him for your convenience,” they added regardless, “I will not trap him or bind him in any way, do you feel he loves you back?”   
“Lo-“ Hajime begun to sputter, but he cut himself off with a kind of backwards gulp. He’d hardly hidden it. “I don’t know.” He managed, more calmly.   
“He must.” Bokuto said. “Oikawa isn’t a bad person he just-“ He paused and frowned, as if picking his words carefully for once, “he doesn’t keep many people around.”   
“That is quite a stretch, Bokuto, you cannot have faith in everyone.”   
“I can.” Bokuto said.   
“I can’t summon Oikawa, only lure him in, and the best way to do that is to put Iwaizumi in danger. No safety net, Oikawa will know.” They argued.  
“Neither of you need to have faith in him.” Hajime said. He wished they had a more eloquent plan.   
"You might die." Bokuto said.   
"I'm not going to die," Hajime told him, "I don't want to die. Oikawa will come."   
Beside him, Akaashi frowned, "Oikawa has never been... Reliable."   
"He is when it matters!" Bokuto protested, sitting up suddenly enough to knock the coffee table. The tea sloshed.   
"It isn't something worth betting your life on," Akaashi said, then grimaced, "that isn't what I meant, love is worth a lot but... If it's meant to happen then it will, in time.”   
“You… you were exiled because you love Bokuto, weren’t you?” Hajime said. Akaashi nodded. “You didn’t wait for that to happen. He wasn’t your last option, after a lifetime of demon hunting.”   
Akaashi bowed their head in agreement.   
“You are right. I cannot be the judge of your situation. Bokuto, we will summon a mindless.”  
“Are you sure Oikawa will come?” Bokuto asked him.   
Hajime swallowed the lump in his throat. God, he hoped so.   
Akaashi stood and inspected the books on one of the shelves.   
“We’re going to need a relic.” They said to Bokuto.   
Bokuto gulped the rest of his scalding hot tea down and jumped up. “I’ll go grab a smoke stone.”   
“Something stronger.”   
Bokuto hesitated, “hell-fire?” He offered.   
Akaashi nodded, their eyes cool and calculating, “we need something that will set off the protection rune. We are going to leave you with a demon that lives for blood.” They warned Hajime.   
Hajime only nodded, still cradling the tea, “where will we do it?” He asked, when Akaashi opened the book to a certain page.  
“I know a place outside of the city. It will be remote enough not to draw attention – and to avoid any… collateral damage.”  
Bokuto brought them there with very little effort on his part. It struck Hajime that despite his friendly exterior, he was perhaps more powerful than any demon he’d met before.   
They were in a barren field with tree’s edging along one border and a rundown fence along the others. The wind which blew across them from the north was oddly cold.  
Hajime was left to stand to one side as Akaashi begun the spell. Bokuto leaned against their shoulders, and Hajime wasn’t sure if he was lending them energy or moral support. Akaashi didn’t look like they needed either.   
“We’re going to teleport out of here.” Bokuto said, raising his voice above the growing howl of the wind. “We’ll be back in twenty minutes to check.” He said. It was supposed to be reassuring, but if they were summoning a demon with whatever it had been – hellfire – Hajime doubted he’d even survive that long.  
Akaashi said some incantation, their eyes flying open, glowing with power and staring at nothing. Then the two of them were gone, and in their place was a shadow, growing rapidly, until it was as tall as the treetops.   
A mindless, Bokuto had called it – and for good reason. The thing had no face for Hajime to gauge intelligence, but it moved sluggishly, and the ground cracked and crumbled beneath its feet. It was a demon straight from literature, something evil and destructive and nothing else.   
The kind of thing Hajime had originally associated with the word demon.   
He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, as it approached him. It would mow him down without a second thought – perhaps it wouldn’t even realise what it’d done – but Hajime knew it wouldn’t get that close. He had to believe it.   
A low rumble came from its throat, a sound which Hajime felt in his stomach. Terror begun to settle there too, and he drew in a steading breath. He could feel it now, on the skin inside his lower lip, a faint mark there, one which pulsed as the demon bore down on him.  
It was Oikawa, still there.   
The demon overshadowed Hajime, overshadowed the sky. Fissures appeared on the ground beneath his shoes and he almost flinched.  
Almost.   
But the rune on his lower lip throbbed and Oikawa’s shape cut through the sky. It took him several moments to kill the mindless – or perhaps send it back to wherever it’d come from – quicker and easier than he’d ever done it before.   
He was no longer the underdog, and Hajime, facing something far more deadly than he had been just moments ago, felt safe.   
Until Oikawa’s fist closed around his throat.   
“You could have died!” Oikawa hissed, his hand pressing on Hajime’s windpipe.   
Hajime gasped once for air, then wrapped his fingers around Oikawa’s wrist. At the pressure, Oikawa let go, his fingers still flexing restlessly. His eyes darted from side to side as well, and he looked, well, murderous.   
“It was a calculated risk,” Hajime rasped.   
“Next time use a goddamn calculator” Oikawa growled. He ripped his hand from Hajime’s grasp and took a few hurried steps away from him, “if I hadn’t – if we hadn’t that day, under the cherry blossom, I wouldn’t have known and it would have- you would have-“ the air seemed to leave his lungs; he couldn’t say it.   
“I lived with the knowledge that you were killing yourself from the inside; for months.” Hajime said, “you understand now, what it feels like?”   
“We are not the same.” Oikawa said.   
“Why?” Hajime asked.   
Oikawa begun pacing restlessly, as if this were the last place on earth he wanted to be. Hajime winced internally, steadied his heartbeat.   
“You don’t feel the same things I do. I thought after all of this, after everything had been burned away from me, it would be gone. I don’t even need to sleep anymore. I could run for miles and never get tired I can do this-“ he clenched his fist, and bones grew through the skin at his knuckles. Oikawa didn’t even flinch- “but you’re still there, over top of layers of magic and against the laws of what should be possible in my own mind Hajime-“ He cut himself off again. Ran his fingers viciously through his hair. “I almost lost myself once, I could feel my mind slipping. I wanted to maim and kill, like the good little demon I am – but I thought of you and I just-“ He paused again, a frustrated glint in his eyes.  
Hajime stepped up to him so he couldn’t pace any further. He placed a finger on Oikawa’s lips, as he opened them to say more. The same thing in a different way, a different thing in the same way; it didn’t matter, because Hajime knew what he had to do now-  
“I want to be there.” He said, “I want to be one of the things you care about enough to fear losing I- Oikawa I knew about the last ingredient, about love.” He paused, his breath hitching as he tried to go on.  
“How?”   
“Sugawara. I asked him, the night you smelt demon on me – Oikawa shut up-“ he said as Oikawa tried to interrupt again. His finger still rested there, against Oikawa’s mouth. “These are words that have to be said before we go on. That night you brought me to your mother’s grave, the night you saved me… and when you tried to tell me you weren’t evil, not like that thing in the alleyway, as if I already didn’t believe you and – I don’t know when it started, Oikawa. One day I realized that I loved you far too much for it to be real, natural, so I found Sugawara and I asked him. You can’t fake love, he told me, and he was right, but he told me that it was all you needed to complete your spell, so you could leave forever and I just – I was greedy, Oikawa, and I wanted our time to last, so I pretended I didn’t care as much as I could and even then…”   
Oikawa was silent for a moment. Stunned. Hajime felt him draw in a breath around his finger, so he let his hand fall loosely by his side. He didn’t know what he was saying, or how to say what he meant.  
“Why are you telling me now that I’m like… this?”   
“Are you prejudiced against your own kind? Or do you think I am? I met Bokuto today. I’ve spoken with Rin a lot. I’ve spoken with you even more.”   
Oikawa regarded him impassively, only the barest tremor in his hands gave him away.   
“Why did you kiss me? Under the cherry blossom tree?” Hajime asked softly. He was scared of the answer.   
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Oikawa said.   
His voice was cold. He stood stock still, unreadable, and for a moment unattainable.   
Then, softer – “because I wanted to. I wanted to for the longest time. I thought you did as well, until afterwards, but I guess I should have listened to my gut feeling.”   
“My gut feeling.” Hajime corrected, “you just happen to be able to feel what I feel.”   
“Yeah, yeah I do.” He said it with an intensity that left Hajime breathless.   
Oikawa’s hand bridged the gap between them. A tentative finger hooked Hajime’s pinkie in its own and he let them intertwine. Stepped closer.   
“What are we going to do now then?” Hajime asked.   
“Right now?” Oikawa asked, his tongue flicking across his lips. Hajime opened his mouth to tell him no, in the future, when the guild came looking or Matsukawa asked how their disaster of a relationship could ever even work, but Oikawa leaned in.  
For a moment, their foreheads touched; Oikawa’s was cold. Then, he tilted his head, just slightly, just enough, to fit their mouths together.   
“Oh,” Oikawa mumbled against his lips. He squeezed Hajime’s hand, his other sliding up to rest on the small of his back.   
Hajime found his fingers in Oikawa’s hair, which had grown wilder somehow. The lack of heat should have thrown him off, but slowly Oikawa begun to thaw. He stepped closer still, and even though the situation was far less certain than it had been the first time they’d kissed, everything felt right.   
“I’m not moving back in with you,” Oikawa said finally, when they broke apart. “I have to sort myself out… and maybe we should try dating without convenient situations forcing us together.”   
“Yeah, you’re right.” Hajime said.   
“Can I have your number?” Oikawa asked with a slow grin.   
“We just made out against a wall for twenty minutes.”   
“You’re right, I need at least thirty before I can make a decision…”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay ya'll I feel like endings are not my strong point (because I don't finish writing stuff enough lmao) but I did ittt

Hajime didn’t feel as bad as he thought he would as he finally packed up the futon. It wasn’t sitting there unused and waiting for an occupant which might never return anymore. His room looked empty without it, but now his phone, sitting face up on his bedside table, was filled with messages from Oikawa. He might’ve muted him, except the ringtone quickly because a sign that Oikawa was there.   
Oikawa, he realized, had Pavlov-ed him into looking forward to that sound.   
He even kept his phone on full volume at night for that reason. The first time Oikawa’s text alert woke him, he fumbled for his phone only to find only the screenshot of a twitter post he’d seen a hundred times before with a few laughing emoji’s beside it. How generic, how unlike Oikawa. Hajime stared at it for a moment before realizing that no, it was exactly like Oikawa.  
Hajime muttered something about Oikawa being an idiot as he pressed the call button. Oikawa picked almost immediately.   
“Hajime?” He said. His voice wasn’t groggy, even though Hajime knew from experience he’d just woken up. He’d had a nightmare, Hajime was almost certain.  
“I’m here.”   
“Yeah, well I saw your contact on the phone screen.” Oikawa said.   
“Of course, of course.” Hajime said, with a light chuckle.   
“I woke you up, didn’t I?” Oikawa asked, guilt creeping into his voice.   
“It’s okay, I had my phone notifications turned on.”   
A long pause, “why?”   
Hajime shrugged to himself, alone in the dark, “because I thought this might happen.”   
“But I’m a demon now. Nightmares are so human and I-“   
“What is a demon?” Hajime interrupted, before Oikawa could become even more uncertain, “since when do you let something else decide what you were?”   
“I was told.” Oikawa said softly, “many times.”   
“Demon is just a word for something people don’t understand.”   
“Do you understand me?” Oikawa asked. His voice dropped, so it was almost a whisper. Almost as if he didn’t want to know the answer.   
Hajime considered this. He considered Oikawa in his entirety. In his minds eye he saw the night they’d first met, how he’d tried to protect him even then. How he’d been desperate; to live, to die, to become something or someone else. The softness under the exterior he tried so hard to maintain.   
One he would hopefully, finally leave it all behind.  
But right now, Oikawa was scared. He was scared of what he’d done to himself, scared of the future, and maybe, just maybe, scared that Hajime would leave him.   
“Yeah,” Hajime said. “Yeah, I do.”  
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, a tiny bit breathlessly.   
Hajime cleared his throat, “I lived with you for three months, idiot.”   
They talked until Hajime’s throat was dry and Oikawa voice became slurred as he fell back into sleep.  
And finally, when Hajime went to hang up, Oikawa said one more thing, so quietly that his voice was just barely audible.   
“Tooru.”   
“Huh?” Hajime said, putting his phone back next to his ear, so close that he could hear Oikawa’s breathing. Before it’d been even, almost incoherent. Now it’d picked up a little. Nervous.   
“You can have my name.” Oikawa said, “if you use it, one day soon.”   
-  
“We’re going to have to tell Matsukawa,” Hajime told him, a few days later when they met up to talk over lunch.   
Oikawa made a face at the name, “I’m going to have to make it up to him,” he said dolefully, stretching his arms out over the table.   
“Why?” Hajime asked.   
“I uh… I promised him I wouldn’t hurt you.” Oikawa said sheepishly. We  
Silence fell over them for a moment. Hajime took another bite of his sandwich, and swallowed before saying;  
“We hurt ourselves.”  
“Yeah, I guess.” Oikawa let the silence mellow out. His eyes refocused somewhere far away. He’d been doing that a lot lately, and Hajime was beginning to feel he couldn’t quite reach him. Then he perked up, “Iwa-chan, can we go on a real date?”   
“What?”   
“To like, the movies or a restaurant or something.”   
“Complete with awkward handholding and arguing over who pays?” Hajime asked, looking as uninterested as he could.   
Oikawa poked his arm, a knowing grin on his face, “you know you want to.” He said, “it’ll make everyone else jealous.”   
“Relived, more likely.” Hajime said, “so they know you aren’t going to bother them.”  
“Iwa-chan is mean,” Oikawa whined.   
Hajime stood up, grinning a little more fondly than he’d meant to. It was odd to let himself be affectionate, and it seemed it took even Oikawa some getting used to. “I have work to get done,” he said. It was time to get his life back in order.   
“What time will you be done?” Oikawa asked, stealing a sip of Hajime’s coffee.   
“Around four.”   
“Can I-“   
“Surprise me.” Hajime said, “but it’d better be somewhere I can go in these.” He tugged at his t-shirt. He’d worn it so much the graphic print of Godzilla on the front was flaking. “I’m not going home to change.”   
Oikawa shot up, a grin wide on his face, “don’t worry, it’ll be perfect.”   
He was gone before Hajime could take his coffee back, and he looked amusedly after him, with not quite enough willpower to be annoyed.   
Oikawa insisted their destination to be kept a secret even when he met up with Hajime after. Ukai shot him a knowing smile and waved him out from the register.  
Seemingly without a second thought, Oikawa latched onto Hajime’s hand. It felt odd to feel the warm weight of his fingers in his palm when they weren’t distracted by a demon or the dregs of a nightmare. If Hajime had been asked, he would have said that it was the speed at which Oikawa was dragging him that made his face heat up.  
(Never mind the fact that he was plenty fit enough).  
(And that Oikawa stopped them several times to look at things).  
He led them through streets which became increasingly more crowded as they reached the town centre. Past the movie theatre, past the fancy restaurants, all the way to the food courts.   
“Figures,” Hajime said, grinning.   
“Huh?” Oikawa said, already apparently interested in the nearest stall. The faintest blush dusted his cheeks.   
“You wanted to be somewhere busy,” Hajime leaned in, so close that he could almost feel Oikawa’s hair brushing his cheek, “somewhere where you could show me off.”   
Oikawa squeezed his hand, turning to say something. He froze for a precious few seconds when he realized how close Hajime’s face was. Hajime watched has his pupils blew wide, almost the shape of a normal humans, and relished the sight of his tongue, darting out to wet his lips.   
Oikawa whipped his head back around.   
“You know your pupils widen when you look at someone you like,” Hajime said teasingly.   
“Iwa-channn.” Oikawa used their interlinked hands to nudge Hajime’s side.   
“Shy, huh?” Hajime said.   
“The things I want to do to you can’t be done here,” Oikawa said, voice dropping an octave.  
“Should have picked a movie theatre then,” Hajime said, his heartbeat speeding up.  
“I want to hear you say my name – loudly.” Oikawa said, his fingers caressing Hajime’s hands, the soft gesture at odds with the low note of his voice. He let the moment hang, let the heat simmer and their eyes clash. Then he kissed Hajime, too quickly for him to really respond, and turned back around to the street. “What does Iwa-chan feel like eating?” He said.  
Hajime repressed the urge to say ‘you’ and together they found dinner. They sat somewhere quiet and non-descript, blending in with the crowd and feeling special, nonetheless. Hajime hadn’t thought conversation with Oikawa could ever be so pleasantly mundane; but he’d applied for a job at a clothing store and customer service was a bitch even for someone like Oikawa.  
And finally, once they’d eaten and the night air chilled them both, they started home. It seemed almost automatic for Oikawa to follow Hajime to his house, and Hajime didn’t pick up on it until they were standing at his front door.   
The silence between them on the way there had been comfortable, and Hajime’s hand had fallen into Oikawa’s like it belonged there. Even their footsteps were matched, pace brisk to get out of the cold and leisurely all at once, because even though Hajime couldn’t see an end to them, to their time together, it was still valuable.   
“I should go home then, I guess.” Oikawa said, with a flash of a grin.  
“Yeah, probably,” Hajime said. Matsukawa was at home, waiting to know how things went.  
“Tonight was fun, really fun.” Oikawa said, a little nervous.   
“It was.” Hajime agreed.   
‘Iwa-chan can chose next time,” Oikawa promised.   
There was something about that nickname which broke the nervous tension which had been building up. Hajime took his hand off the door handle and placed it on Oikawa’s waist instead. He’d been planning to hug him, but Oikawa dipped his head slightly and Hajime responded as if they’d done it for years.   
He had to tilt his head up only slightly. At first it was the merest brush of lips, like they were going to pull apart and continue on with their lives. But they were standing too closely and Hajime’s life would be there in an hour or three.   
It could have been the scrape of teeth on skin or the pressure of hands through clothing or the small moan which escaped Oikawa which broke through the softness.   
They switched, so it was Oikawa at the door, so Hajime could press them together, feel him even through their clothing. Oikawa’s teeth were sharp enough to graze Hajime’s mouth and he only pushed closer to the pressure.  
He was still using the same hair product and shampoo he always had, and Hajime inhaled the scent. Bathed in it. The hand which had rested on the door by Oikawa’s head caressed his face of its own volition. Fingers begun threading through his hair. Hajime was filled with a kind of restless, unstable energy, and god, Oikawa’s hair would be a mess afterwards, but neither of them cared.   
Neither of them cared about the dull thud of Hajime’s knee hitting the door as he pressed it between Oikawa’s legs, about the unmistakable sounds of kissing which was too much for the public ear.  
And Hajime couldn’t help, as Oikawa pulled him closer and pressed himself to his thigh, clothed as they were, but break the kiss, and whisper Oikawa’s name in his ear.   
His response was immediate. His breathing sped up, his weight on Hajime’s leg increased, and his pupils widened so much they almost swallowed his irisis.   
“Again.” He panted, “say it again.”  
“Tooru.”   
Oikawa’s eyes flicked over Hajime’s face hungrily. “Iwa-chan – Hajime I- We can’t here, I can hear people, they’re coming down the footpath and they’d know but-“ his fingers gripped Hajime’s ass and he leaned closer, “god, I’ve never wanted someone to fuck me this badly and if I don’t leave I will rip that jacket off you.”   
Hajime basked in the intense note of Oikawa’s voice, in the realization that they both wanted the exact same thing in this one exact moment.   
Voices permeated his hazy hearing and he let go of Oikawa, so reluctantly, so slowly, that he almost didn’t move at all. Oikawa pressed one last burning kiss to Hajime’s swollen lips and then yanked himself way.  
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.   
“You’d better.” Hajime said, his voice still husky.   
He watched as Oikawa left. His instinct was to call a cab, but Oikawa was untouchable by human violence. It was easy to forget, except he walked with that confident swagger, and when he turned to look back at Hajime, often as he walked away from him, his smile was invincible.   
No, that kiss had not been a goodbye.   
Hajime finally unlocked his door, his own smile overtaking what felt like his whole face. He drew to a sudden halt; Matsukawa was there, his arms crossed, looking like a stern parent waiting on a child who was home past curfew.   
Except, of course, for the grin on his face.   
“Someone is finally getting some.” He said.   
“Shut up.” Hajime told him, grinning. He didn’t even bother to shake off the friendly hand on his shoulder.   
“So he’s staying then?” Matsukawa said, “you wouldn’t have shoved your tongue down his throat if he wasn’t.”   
“Yeah, yeah I think he is.” Hajime said.   
“We didn’t need that pity party after all.” Matsukawa said, he cracked his knuckles, “I will fight him, if need be though.”   
“He’s taller than you.” Hajime said amusedly.   
“And scrawny,” Matsukawa reminded him.   
Not anymore, Hajime thought. Not now he was eating lunch with him every day, not after he’d made dinner for him every night for months. Things were finally stabilizing.   
Things were looking up for the long run.   
-  
“Matsukawa and Hanamaki are basically married anyway,” Hajime said, as he sidled through the door with Oikawa’s box of belongings.   
It was the same house, with the paint peeling a little in the kitchen and the two bedrooms down the hall. Matsukawa was still there a lot of the time, except now his room was bare, save for the two boxes in the middle.   
Hajime might’ve felt like he was kicking him out, if he hadn’t already been at Hanamaki’s so often. So Matsukawa was moving in with Hanamaki and Hajime needed a roommate. That roommate, of course, was Oikawa.  
Now it was the two of them, and it was perfect. It’d been almost a year since he and Hajime had met, and things hadn’t been smooth the whole way. Oikawa had gained Matsukawa’s forgiveness fully after a while and eventually the two of them had explained things in full.   
Now Oikawa was boiling some water, ready to drink some fancy herbal tea he’d stocked their cupboards with, and there was a knock on the front door which prompted Hajime to put the box on some random surface and step back out.   
At the door stood Sugawara, a somewhat reluctant Sawamura behind him, and behind them was Bokuto, loud and grinning.   
“Was this… planned?” Hajime asked.  
Sawamura cast Bokuto a suspicious look, “no.” He said.   
Sugawara greeted him with a hug, “we figured you’d be moving in today.”   
“How?”   
“We have you under limited surveillance – it’s normal policy, I promise.”   
“And you’re not here to…?”   
“There’s been a review of guild policy,” Sawamura told him, “things will be different.”   
“They might let Akaashi back,” Bokuto cut in.  
“Technically,” Sawamura said, “we want to bring non-humans into the guild to work as correspondents.”   
“Odd that not many aren’t on board, after what you’ve done.” Oikawa cut in. He was holding a teabag and his eyes were wary. It was an expression that had all but vanished in the past months.  
Hajime jumped. He’d gotten used to not being able to feel what Oikawa could feel, but he was still perfectly silent when he entered a room.   
Sugawara dipped his head, and held out an envelope, “we’re not strictly here for business. Hinata wanted to come, but we thought perhaps he shouldn’t.”   
“Then it would be a home invasion.” Oikawa said wryly. He took the envelope and was the one to step aside first. Hajime followed his lead, figuring that Oikawa must be more willing than he let on to let demon hunters into his – their – house.   
Bokuto followed cheerfully.   
“How did you know to come?” Hajime asked him.   
“Oikawa told me – ah!” Bokuto leaned in constitutionally, “he was super excited and-“   
Before he could get another word out, Oikawa slipped in between them and slipped a hand over Bokuto’s mouth.   
“Another word and I’ll tell Akaashi about the eleventh of march.”   
Hajime felt burning curiosity rise in his stomach as Bokuto, miraculously, shut up.   
“Why isn’t Akaashi here?” Hajime asked.   
“They read the stars and figured that there was a large chance of guild members being here. It’d be… er… awkward.”  
The odd group gathered in the living room. Sugawara and Sawamura perched on the smaller sofa. Oikawa moved his legs from the sofa as Hajime came, to let him on. Bokuto squeezed his large frame in beside him as well.   
There was the sound of paper tearing as Oikawa pulled open the envelope.   
“What is it?” He asked finally, slipping out the slip of paper.  
“The new contract.” Sawamura said.   
“I thought you lot said the old one was written by an angel or some bullshit.” Oikawa said. Hajime rested a hand on his leg, to stave off the bitterness which was creeping into his voice.  
“We’ve clarified some things.” Sawamura said.   
“We want to work more closely with non-humans,” Sugawara said, looking at Bokuto as well. “Corruption is not easy to weed out, and years of bitterness, well, they aren’t going to disappear.”  
Oikawa unfolded the paper and begun to read. At one point, his eyebrows disappeared up his forehead, but for the most part, his face was carefully blank.   
“I noticed you’ve started calling us non-humans. You know that’s a very broad term. Do you extend these rights to dogs?”   
Sugawara grimaced, “we’re working on it.” He said.   
“I’m not going to work with you.” Oikawa said, straightening up. Something about his posture made Hajime realize he was going to actually talk business. “I know someone who may, but it will take a lot to persuade him.”  
He gave Sawamura Kuroo’s number and felt about the envelope for more. Finally, he pulled out a slip of paper and read through it.   
“You tryna buy my loyalty?” He asked finally.   
Hajime glimpsed a check and an I.D. The first name on it was Makoto, and he felt a small burst of satisfaction, because he was still the only one Oikawa had given his name.  
“You’re going to be living in the human world for a while.” Sugawara said. Oikawa shot Hajime a glance, then a small, secretive smile, but Sugawara continued, his voice dropping. “Think of it as compensation.”   
“For-“ Oikawa paused. The colour left his face, “you know?”   
Sugawara smiled sadly, “it isn’t rocket science. Your new identity is in there, so you can live legally.”  
“Compensation, huh.” Oikawa said numbly.  
Silence descended over them, until Bokuto sprung up, “well I just came because I wanted to know you guys were getting on alright,” he said to Hajime and Oikawa, “Akaashi will be open to working with you again, if you give them access to the archives and all the artefacts.”  
Sugawara dipped his head, “we will be in touch,” he said.   
Bokuto grinned and nodded. Then, with a flourish, he teleported himself away, leaving behind the slight scent of burnt sage.  
-  
Hajime was packing up to finish his shift. It was late, but Oikawa was there, idly reading the ingredients on packets of pasta. There was a little tension in his shoulders, and Hajime wondered if it were because of Sugawara’s visit earlier that day.   
“You going to cook dinner?” He asked, pulling off his work shirt. He was wearing a tank top underneath to stave off the itch of the cheap fabric.   
Oikawa jumped, then grinned sheepishly. “Something like that.” He said.   
“What’s up?” He asked, bringing his shirt over to the stock room.   
Oikawa followed meekly. “Well, I was thinking about something – you have to wait though, until we get home.”   
“Alright…” Hajime said. He might’ve been more suspicious if he hadn’t been with Oikawa so long. There was something soft in his gaze.   
He let silence fall between them on their walk home, Oikawa swinging the fabric shopping bag (containing pasta and tea, of course) in one hand and holding Hajime’s with his other. There was nothing unusual about their apartment when they got inside, though Hajime checked.   
Only a sheet of paper on the table. Oikawa set the shopping bag down in the kitchen and begun to unpack, taking his time. The he sat down on the other side of the table. Hajime got the creeping feeling he was in some sort of job interview.   
“I’ve been thinking…” Oikawa begun, pulling the paper towards him, “that we should make a contract.”   
Hajime frowned, “like, someone does the dishes someone does the cooking type thing.”   
Oikawa laughed in spite of himself, “no, like the one we had when we first met – er, not quite as high stakes, of course.”  
“What would you put on a contract like that?” Hajime asked.   
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I want you inside me again-“ Oikawa paused abruptly, and mock glared at Hajime, who’d opened his mouth to say something “I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.”   
Hajime raised an eyebrow.   
“Shut up.” Oikawa mumble, hiding his face. “This is a symbolic moment, Iwa-chan.”   
Hajime stopped his teasing and nudged Oikawa under the table with his foot for him to continue.   
“I’d put it in the same place,” Oikawa said, “for continuity, and it would be… kind of like, well, a wedding ring, but a suit of armour! Or a wedding ring which physically repels people with ill intent… I don’t know, that’s kind of a shitty metaphor.”   
Oikawa’s face was fiery red, but he was smiling sheepishly. Hajime smiled encouragingly.   
“We can write it so we can both remove it if we so choose, and we don’t need to do any kind of the soul binding stuff, but I want to, so I thought we should write everything down – if you’re okay with it.”   
“And frame it and stick it on the wall?”   
“People would think you’re into something weird.”   
“I am into something weird.”   
“Mean, Iwa-chan.”   
Hajime got up and moved around to Oikawa’s side of the table. Oikawa leaned into him, watching curiously as he picked up the pen.   
“Do we need to write it in runes or something?” He asked.  
Oikawa snorted and snatched the pen, “yeah because divine powers can only read ancient runes.”   
He wrote their names on the top of the page in bubbly kanji.   
“So what are we actually going to write?” Hajime asked.   
“We can do – it’s called a partial binding. It’s like my mark on you and yours on me. Bokuto and Akaashi have done it.”  
“Is that what he meant yesterday?” Hajime asked.   
“Yup!”   
“Aren’t they like, married?”   
Oikawa laughed, “maybe they are. They’ve had to keep quiet about it. Should I have brought a ring?”   
Hajime grinned. They hadn’t talked seriously about marriage; neither of them felt the need to, he supposed, but this contract was perhaps more symbolic.   
“So are you going to put your handprint back on me?” He asked.   
“Right where it used to be – unless you want me to make it easier to hide.”   
“It isn’t a hickey.”   
“Still difficult to explain.” Oikawa pointed out.   
Hajime ran a hand over his left shoulder. It’d become some weird, subconscious habit of his, after the weeks he and Oikawa had first met, when he’d been thinking about the bond constantly. Oikawa grabbed Hajime’s hand and held it in his.   
“How are you going to write on that contract?” Hajime quipped.   
“You trust me, don’t you?”   
“Of course.”   
Oikawa slipped his finger under Hajime’s sleeve and lifted it up.   
“You have quite the t-shirt tan.”   
“Shut up.”  
Oikawa pecked him on the cheek, and then narrowed his eyes in concentration. His pupils became narrower, as they did when he used magic, and his veins became more pronounced beneath his skin. He pressed his hand to Hajime’s skin.   
It didn’t burn as it had the first time. They weren’t in the same position either; now Oikawa’s hand spanned the width of his shoulder. Hajime felt warmth wash over him, emitting from the palm of Oikawa’s hand. He let it linger there – all of Oikawa’s touches were lingering.  
Once they had burned with their intensity. Now they were more comforting and familiar.   
When Oikawa finally pulled away to examine his work, there was a faint, silvery outline on Hajime’s arm.  
He ran a finger over it gently. It was slightly raised.   
“You’ve been practicing.” Hajime said.   
Oikawa shook his head, “the first time I did that I was desperate and angry and – you know how I was. I didn’t think emotion would effect it so much though.”  
“What do I do for you?” Hajime asked, looking at his hand as if he expected to see it glowing.   
“Touch me anywhere and… I suppose it will look the same.”  
It went without saying that it depended on what Hajime felt towards Oikawa.   
“Anywhere?”   
“Not my face.”  
“Oh of course not. You need it for that advertising job.”  
“It’s modelling.” Oikawa corrected.  
Hajime couldn’t help, at that moment, but lean forwards and kiss Oikawa. He had this way of smiling when Hajime’s teased him, and it was so effortless and breathtakingly beautiful at the same time. It was only a smile – but perhaps that was what Hajime liked most about it. It was a simple, pure, expression of some, fleeting happiness. A happiness they’d feel again thousands of times.   
Oikawa, of course, kissed him back, and Hajime unthinkingly lifted his hand to the nape of Oikawa’s neck. He felt something in his palm as they completed the bond and he froze there, pulling his mouth from Oikawa’s slightly.   
“Hajime my-“  
Hajime lifted his hand slowly and looked at the place it had rested moments before. Sure enough, there was the same, raised, silvery line.   
He released a breathy laugh. “I was going to make us match.” He said. It was his turn to smile sheepishly.   
Oikawa twisted to look at himself in the mirror on the bookshelf.   
“I don’t mind.” He decided, leaning back into Hajime.   
“You could wear a turtleneck?” Hajime suggested.   
“What about in summer?”   
“Mmm.” Hajime ran his hands through Oikawa’s hair as he leaned into him.   
“Thank you.” Oikawa said.   
“Huh?” Normally Oikawa protested the action, because it messed up his style.   
“For this.” Oikawa gestured vaguely to the room around them. “This life, this home, this happiness.”   
“We make each other happy.”   
“I remember you saying that about hurt.”   
“We are our own worst enemies.”  
“That’s pretentious.” Oikawa said, elbowing him.   
“I love you.”   
“Who doesn’t?”   
Hajime laughed again. It wasn’t the first time they’d said it, and it sure as hell would not be the last.  
He touched the new mark on his shoulder with his free hand. Suddenly, Tendo’s words rang in his ears, the way he’d called their bond a marriage.   
Back then it had all been convenience, of course.   
Still, Hajime thought, if could go back in time to that night, change the past, change fate, whatever, he wouldn’t touch a thing.  
They’d needed a little help for the universe, after all.  
A little help from the otherworldly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyheyhey thank you so much for reading! I know I said that I wrote this before hand but I still didn't have an ending I was happy with until tonight so I lied a tiny bit but! It's properly finished now!   
> Also I inadvertently planned some other stuff for this au. One is Ushijima/Tendo (who made a guest appearance in this) and its just a lil one shot but I might finish it off (Ushijima keeps pet fish and is 100% oblivious to everything including his slightly demonic roommate)  
> The other is Kiyoko/Yaichi and idk if there's much demand for this but its all in my head and it kind of gave me Rapunzel vibes at first? But now it gives me quarantine vibes, so we'll see if this goes anywhere.  
> (Also I ended up loving Akaashi and Bokuto's dynamic but I don't have a plot I just want them together lmao)


End file.
